


Bezoar

by silver_drip



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, Harry Potter Has a Twin, Implied/Referenced Torture, James Potter Lives, Lily Evans Potter Lives, Slytherin Harry Potter, Wrong Boy-Who-Lived (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 39,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24947077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_drip/pseuds/silver_drip
Summary: Harry was raised by the Dursleys while his twin brother was raised by James. When he ends up in St. Mungo's he meets a parent he thought was dead.(Notes: Harry wasn't abandoned for his more popular twin or because his parents were fame hungry. No one dimensional belligerent twin. No Slytherin mini-politicians. No genius, over-powered Harry.)
Comments: 303
Kudos: 870





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elyrian_XIII](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elyrian_XIII/gifts).



> I'm hoping to bring some new things to WBWL, twin stories. 
> 
> In this fic I’m going to not get into details that we’ve all read a hundred times unless they are plot relevant. I despise skimmable stories.
> 
> Trigger warning for this chapter: child abuse

* * *

It started with a sting of roiling bacon grease—Far from the first time grease had bitten Harry Potter. The pain usually wouldn’t register, but this jumping grease hurdled over his broken glasses and into his left eye. 

He flinched, squeezing his eyes tightly. He didn’t see it, but he felt his hand jerk the skillet. 

Then a sound worse than all others. Not because it was Dudley in pain, but because what it promised. 

Harry blinked the bacon fat out of his eyes and turned to see how much pain he was in for. Dudley’s wrist to elbow, jiggling and violently red. 

A distant part of Harry, a part that he kept deep inside, thought how there wasn’t a real difference between bacon strips and Dudley’s arm when it came to fat. If anything, the bacon was leaner. 

Vernon wrenched Harry off the stepping stool in front of the stove top. 

Harry only felt the first few hits. 

*

There was a new feeling, one he’d never encountered before. It was like being yanked up by his hair, but pleasant, no pain. 

Harry opened his eyes to a face shadowed by lengthy grey hair. He jerked away and fell to the floor. He scrambled away from the gaunt woman, his back hitting a wall. Bandages pulled at his skin, scabs breaking open.

The woman stood, reaching for him with boney fingers and vacant eyes.

“Lilian, there you are!” another voice said, making Harry flinch. He froze then saw that the newcomer in white robes was looking at the woman. She took her hand in hers, patting it. “It’s wonderful to see you up, but you can’t go wandering and bothering other patients, deary.” The woman speaking looked at him. Harry did his best to look small. “Goodness, you’re awake.” She gave up the hand of the skeletal woman who hadn’t moved from her seat. “I’m Mediwitch Magdalen.” Her smile turned gentle, careful. 

Harry held his breath, filing away the term ‘Mediwitch’. He glanced around. The area looked clean, but nothing like the hospitals he’d glanced on the tele in passing while doing chores. He could tell this was too elaborate to be one of Dudley’s ‘jokes’. 

But Mediwitch? Really? Harry would have laughed if he didn’t know better. No need for another person to think he’s daft. 

And… it didn’t _feel_ like she was lying. 

“We can’t have you on the ground, now can we?” She held out a helping hand. Harry breathed in a shallow, calming breath before taking it. She helped him up and back onto the bed, the bed that was far comfier than anything he’d ever slept on before. “The Obliviators found you in Muggle Surrey in a sad state. Bit of accidental magic, they believe. Your parents must be worried sick. What’s your name, deary?” 

Harry licked his chapped lips, realising there were bandages on his face. He didn’t look at the vacant woman who was sitting at a chair next to his bed. 

Magdalen didn’t know his name. Good. 

He gave himself a few extra seconds by croakily asking for water. But that time was quickly rendered useless when she _levitated_ a glass and made water spring from a stick, sending his mind spinning. 

Uncle Vernon must have really done a number on him if Harry was seeing things like this. Hell, Even Aunt Petunia had joined in, her sharp heels stomping him over and over again. 

He touched the bandages that were covering most of his face. When he looked down they disappeared underneath his crisp blue shirt and slacks. 

She handed him the water. “Or we can contact someone else if you like.” There was that look, the one where an adult had a sliver of doubt about his ‘home life’, the one that Aunt Petunia seemed to always put to rest before Harry could ever consider asking for help. 

He took a sip, then a long gulp of water when he realized his throat was desert dry. 

“Lily!” Someone shouted, causing Harry to nearly drop the glass. More than a few drops dampened his shirt and bandages.

“Really now, will he ever learn?” Magdalen said while standing. She straightened out her crisp white robes. “I’ll be right back, young man, to do a few diagnostic spells.”

Magdalen turned her eyes to the vacant looking woman. “Lilian, we need to get you back to your ward. James and little Charlus will be thrilled—”

The door to their room smacked against the wall as it was flung open. Harry unconsciously curled in on himself at the loud noise. “Lil!” a man shouted shortly after followed by a nearly as loud: “Mum!” 

The pair ran right past him and to the vacant woman at his bedside.

“James, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a galaxy’s worth of stars times that you must be quiet at St. Mongo’s.”

“Oh Maggy, not now,” the man said, eyes trained on the vacant woman. “Lily, can you hear me?”

“Mum,” a boy Harry’s age whispered while gripping the feather grey tunic she wore. 

And he looked just like Harry. No, he looked like a _better_ version of Harry—One that hadn’t been starved and repeatedly beaten. But instead of Harry’s eerie green, his eyes were a muddy hazel. 

Vernon must have busted Harry’s head open. 

Possibly for the best. 

Mediwitch Magdalen made a tutting noise before focusing on the woman, Lily. “Let’s get you back to your ward, deary.” With a surprising amount of strength she helped her up. 

And those vacant eyes weren’t looking at her son or James though, they were on Harry.

He looked away, focusing on his deathgrip on his water that may or may not exist. The condensation that soaked through his bandages. He flexed his fingers. They didn’t feel broken, but he remembered more than a couple bent in the wrong direction. Before an explosion ripped away his consciousness. 

“Harry!” a shriek tore through him, through the white noise he found comfort in, the avoidant thoughts, and all the walls that he put up over his short lifetime—It went to something that reached deeper into him than anything had before. “Harry!” Again and again his name was shouted as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

In the doorway Lily was struggling in James’ arm. Screaming his name like if she didn’t, it would claw right out of her chest. 

“Lils! He’s gone! Harry’s gone!” She slipped out of his hold and stumbled to Harry’s bed. 

Harry pushed himself backwards, against the headboard, and against whatever hallucination was addling his mind.

Her fingers were ice cold as they gripped his leg. Her limbs shook with exertion, dragging herself across the bed to him like some nightmare that a normal child might have. She was laid out on top of him, her meager weight still far heavier than his undernourished self, pinning him. 

The mingled shouts and his own harsh breathing was causing him a splitting headache—And then Lily was pulling at the bandages on his face, scabs breaking and bleeding. The pain caused him to freeze, knowing better than to scream. 

Lily went rigid, more of her weight pushing the last of his air from his lungs.

“Bloody hell,” an immature voice said. Harry met the eyes of his healthier counterpart before he was yanked out of the room.

*

The following day there were four adults in the room with him: Mediwitch Magdalen, Lily, a woman that hadn’t introduced herself, and a man that called himself an Auror. 

Harry knew police when he saw them, and marked the Auror as one right away. He also knew it was best to say next to nothing, but that only held true when it could get back to the Dursleys. This was just a mocking dream—And he was safe in his dreams, until they turned into nightmares. Yet, when his waking hours were already hellish there wasn’t much his dreams could do to top it. 

Today, and just this once, he didn’t hold his tongue. 

“They never gave me food.” Magdalen gasped. “In the summer and spring I could eat dandelions if they didn’t see, but once I put down the weed killer I couldn’t eat them. The chemicals stung like fire on my raw knees, if I wore pants they’d just get soaked. I didn’t have gloves either.” He held up his hands with scarred knicks. “Rose bush thorns.” The unnamed woman had a quill and parchment kept scribbling down furiously. “The best thing about gardening was I got to drink from the hose when Aunt Petunia wasn’t watching. 

“I slept in a cupboard under the stairs. I woke up every morning at five to the bolt lock being undone. Sometimes I could slip a few bites of food while I made breakfast, but if any of them saw me they’d scream at me then hit me for stealing.” Harry snorted. “They had a dishwasher, but had me hand wash everything. Sometimes Petunia would make me start washing the skillet before it cooled.” He rubbed his fingers together, feeling the old burn marks. Harry let out another mirthless smile. “No one told me grease and water were a violent mix. I had to find that out myself.” Magdalen was crying. “Then there was Dudley, their son. I wasn’t allowed to have better grades than him. He and his gang always hunted me down and did a brilliant job of beating me up.” He sighed. “And that’s only the half of it.” Harry leaned back on the pillows that he was propped up on, exhaustion weighing him down.

“Did they ever mention what happened to your parents?” the Auror asked. Harry looked at Lily, who was apparently his mother. She was of no comfort, only watching him. 

“They said my father abandoned me; that he left me on their doorstep when I was one. They said that James was a druggy who had knocked up Lily on accident.” He felt his anger flare in his chest. “They said he killed Lily and then himself in a murder-suicide the same night he dropped me off.” 

The Auror’s lips thinned. “Did you accidentally ever use magic? Things like making something float, catch on fire, or change colors.” Harry nodded, no longer having the energy to answer questions. He was flagging fast. 

“We can continue this another time,” Magdalen said, allowing no room for argument. “The potions to raise him to a healthy weight and nutrition potions can be very draining.” She started ushering them out. 

“Mr. Potter,” the Auror said from the doorway, “please be assured that we’ll get to the bottom of this and you’ll never have to see your abusive relatives again.” 

It was a hollow sentiment. 

*

_The Boy That Died Lives Again_

Harry glanced over the newspaper. Magdalen had tried to keep it away from him, but one of the Mediwizards took him for a walk around the ward. Harry had grabbed a paper when he’d taken a break. Magdalen had been right. Those ‘potions’ she’d been giving him did wear him out.

He skimmed the article. Apparently he’d died when some evil man had attacked him and his brother as one-year-olds. Lily had been tortured with an unforgivable curse while protecting them and James had apparently been forced to watch. 

People had mourned Harry, but that was nothing in comparison to how they celebrated his brother, Charlus: The Boy Who Lived. 

Harry didn’t know what to make of it. 

Magdalen took the paper from him. He hadn’t noticed her coming into his room. It had been upgraded, wider, more private, and an additional bed for Lily. 

She was wheeling in a cart that was—Harry’s eyes widened. The cart was filled with presents and fat envelopes. 

He didn’t get his hopes up though. Presents were meant for ‘good boys’ not ‘freaks’ like him, according to his harpy aunt. But this was Harry’s personal, coma-based delusion. He could have presents if he wanted them. 

Magdalen, with a slight smile, announced they were his. “Now Harry, I can’t have you eating too many sweets. We already have your sugar intake balanced to bring you back to proper health. Too much more will make you sick.” She took a vase of flowers off the cart. “Lillian gets flowers every week from your father.” She sat it on the side table then handed him a small velvet bag. “He also sent you some chocolate toads.” 

Harry wasn’t sure what it meant that James hadn’t visited himself in person. It was only Harry’s third day of being conscious in the hospital. If he was really Harry’s dad, wouldn’t he be overjoyed and refusing to leave his side? Not that Harry knew much about proper fathers. 

He opened the little candy and didn’t react to the hopping chocolate toads. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he ate a toad. Hopefully it wouldn’t make him sick like it had when he’d eaten the real one. 

Oh and the chocolate was heavenly. He could see why Dudley gobbled them up in bigger piggy mouthfuls than usual. 

He headed Magdalen’s warning and didn’t touch the rest of the candy. And it was… strange, so many gifts for him. He wasn’t even sure what to do about them. It’s not like he had a place for them. 

The letters were… they were their own sort of headache. It was a mixture of congratulations, sympathies (since his sorry state had been revealed in the newspaper), and fury at his treatment by his muggle relatives. Yet… all of them seemed to circle back to Charlus, his brother. How fabulous he was, how Harry was lucky to have such a wonderful brother, how much he’d learn from The Boy Who Lived. 

None of them cared about him, only that he was connected to Charlus, or Russ as he was referred to. 

He tossed them, all except one that was from a Lady Longbottom. Her letter was more focused on Lily, and how her own son and daughter-in-law had been tortured like her. She mentioned nothing about Russ. And, more interestingly, she went on about her own suspicions about his supposed death and how he ended up with his muggle relatives. He would write to her, assuming he could afford postage, though he didn’t see anything on the envelope beyond his name. Maybe more of this magic nonsense that seemed to play a large role in his coma-dream. 

The door to his room opened, revealing his brother and three redheads, two of which were twins. 

“Charlus and Co,” Magdalen started scolding, “you should know better than to go into a patient’s room without knocking.” She turned to the redheads. “Your friends don’t have permission to be here either.”

“Please, Madam Maggy. We’ll be real quiet, I swear!” Russ gave her big puppy-dog eyes.

Harry could see her resolve melt away. Harry had never been able to master that, never had a _chance_ to.

“Well, alright, but I’ll be back soon to check on you.” Her cheeks were rounded, her smile almost girlish. 

Russ sat on his bed, grabbing a bag of jellybeans and opening them. Harry held back a lerch, his food being stolen made him want to tackle Russ. That was _his_ food. Harry had starved for most of his life while Russ had a damn pooched stomach. 

“Harry, this is my best mate, Ron.” He gestured to the youngest redhead who was looking at Harry with wide eyes. 

The redheaded twins crowded in on him. “We’re Fred—”

“And George.” The pair turned to each other. “Or are you George—”

“And you’re Fred?” 

Russ threw a jellybean at them, _wasted_ food. Harry nearly shouted at him. 

He calmed himself down. He didn’t have energy to spare. 

“It’s going to be great, Harry,” Russ said through a handful of candy. “We’ll have loads of fun together! I'll teach you how to fly! I’ll show you the best parts of the manor!” He kept talking excitedly, gesturing like flies were swarming him. Ron was still staring at him guilelessly. And Fred and George were nosely poking through his gifts. Lily had ghosted over to him, reaching for his hand. Her shaking fingers shattered his resolve.

“Enough!” Lily clutched onto him tighter. Russ’s mouth was open, a bit of candy nearly falling out. Harry took in a deep breath. “I have a headache,” which was nearly true. “Can one of you get Mediwitch Magdalen for me?” It was easier to lie than tell them why he was really angry. 

Russ glanced at his bedsheets. Harry’s fists balled up, his skin and bandages pulling tight. “Ron, Fred, George, go find her.” The trio left at his command. When they were gone he spoke again. “Everything’s going to be better now.” He looked at Lily, smiling. “Mum hadn’t said a word since I killed You-Know-Who.” The night Harry ‘died’. “Now she’s eating and going to the bathroom on her own. If this keeps up, we’ll be able to take her home. And now I have you. Ron’s great, but I’ve always wanted a brother. We’ll be a family.” 

Harry took notice that all that completely ignored what he’d been through. It was all through Russ’s narrow and naive perspective and revolved around him. 

And a family? Harry had seen what kind of family Lily came from. If she was half as bad at Petunia, Harry wanted nothing to do with her. 

But he knew he couldn’t stay at St. Mungos indefinitely. And there was always a chance that they’d send him back to the Dursleys, despite what the Auror said to him. Adults couldn’t be trusted. No one could be trusted. 

Harry nodded along though and soon enough Russ was gone. 

*

Three days went by. Lily slept not in her bed, but by the chair that flanked his own. Russ came back every day, thankfully without his friends. He went on and on about all Harry had missed. The birthday bashes, snowball fights, and autographing the stories written about him. He’d even had the nerve to bring Harry a full set of them and winked at him like he was doing him a huge favor. 

Harry wasn’t sure if he was jealous. It was a heavier emotion than that, something that made him feel sick and angry at the same time. Yet, it was almost comical. He could give the mixture of emotions no proper name. 

The Auror came back, apologizing that the information he was alive and the “situation with his muggle relatives”, as the Auror put it, had gotten out. What a load of rubbish. 

A different Auror came and explained what had happened to the Dursleys. While Vernon and Petunia were beating him and Dudley was screaming at him, Harry had a burst of accidental magic. It had sent the trio flying backwards and took a chunk out of the wall. The accidental magic, along with the muggle (which apparently meant those without magic) police reports came in. The Aurors and Obliviators had been able to “tidy up the mess”. Whatever that meant. 

James had yet to visit. Russ said he was busy, not that Harry was expecting much. 

He’d sent a letter to Lady Longbottom, but had yet to get a response.

One thing that he was surprised to learn was his full name: Hadrian James Potter. He’d only ever been Harry, and knew his last name because the teachers called it out. He was also older than Russ. 

“I’m so happy for you two,” Magdalen said as she brushed out Lily’s grey hair, grey hair that was starting to show orange at the roots. “We’ve never seen recovery like this from an unforgivable curse tortured victim before. We shouldn’t get too hopeful though. Her being able to go to look after herself a bit is good, but regression is possible.” She turned her kind eyes to Harry. “I think you’ve knocked her out of her daze, but I don’t know how long it will last. This will just be a trial run.” 

Harry didn’t ask if it was a trial run for him too. 

When Magdalen finished with Lily she helped pack up his many gifts from strangers. 

James and Russ came in with their usual loudness announcing their arrival.

James went straight to Lily, not even sparing him a glance. He kissed her on the forehead then hugged her. Russ was practically jumping on his heels. 

“We’re having a big party, Harry! You’ll love it!” 

“Grand,” Harry said, not bothering to keep the sarcasm from his voice. Russ either didn’t hear it, or ignored it. 

“And there are reporters outside that want to take pictures of the Famous Potter Twins!” 

Harry was very tempted to strangle this boy who shared his looks, but nothing much else. Besides, Harry wasn’t planning to show off his still healing wounds. 

He was no show pony or an accessory for The Boy Who Lived to tote around. 

Harry had figured out that he couldn’t just will this ridiculous dream to do what he wanted. He had to be persuasive. 

“Can we take the back exit? I don’t want them to see me in smocks.” 

Russ looked him over and scrunched his nose. “Right. Good call.” He turned to James who was still focused on only Lily. “Da, can we go? I’m hungry,” Russ complained.

Harry rolled his eyes to himself. Russ didn’t know what real hunger was like if he whined like that. 

“Right, Lils, you heard Russ. Up we go.” She stood with James’ hand holding hers. Lily’s eyes never left Harry. 

“Remember, James, she can’t be left alone at home. A bit of nature will do her good, but be close at hand in case she trips. Mild food for now, and keep track of her intake.” Magdalen's voice dropped. “Her mense is in three days and should last about a week. I’ll come by for the first one to show you how to take care of it.” 

“Da, what’s a mense?” Russ was ignored. 

“Harry’s potions have already been delivered. Their instructions are inside.” For the first time since they’d entered, James looked at Harry. His expression was unreadable. 

James turned to Magdalen, “Maggy, you are a blessing. I don’t know where we’d be without you.” He kissed her on both cheeks and she giggled like a schoolgirl. 

Harry nearly rolled his eyes. He supposed it was better than when Vernon tried to flatter the wife of his boss and made her infinitely uncomfortable—Though that had been funny in its own right. 

He was told to hold onto James and given no warning beyond that. 

Inside out. Pulled taut as a bow string and half as thin. 

Harry fell onto the hard ground, his head spinning and chest feeling too tight. Russ laughed at him while James comforted Lily who was upright, but twitching. He tried to lead her away, but she dug her feet in, breathlessly chanting Harry’s name. 

“You’ll get used to it, mate,” Russ said while helping him up. 

James scowled at Harry, but quickly hid it. 

What was his problem? 

Harry clenched his teeth. If James hit him… 

Russ didn’t act like he was abused, but that didn’t mean much. It wouldn’t be the first time one of Harry’s dreams turned sour.

“A tour?” His voice came out raspy. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Maybe we should take a tour of the house. It might help,” he wasn’t ready to call her mom, “Lily remember something and calm down.” 

James gave him a heavy, unreadable look. “Right.” 

“Sounds boring,” Russ whined. “I’m going to go eat.” 

When he was gone, James turned his back on Harry. “He’s coming with us, love.” She still didn’t budge. Harry sighed to himself. He didn’t like being touched, but he figured holding her hand was the only thing that could get Lily moving. 

He took her hand. It was ice cold, with a weak grip that he knew would be tighter if Lily had the strength. 

Harry found the house, the _manor,_ was ridiculously big. A sort of resentment pulsed through his veins. This is where he could have been, could have prospered, if only he hadn’t ended up with the Dursleys. 

*

Harry’s room both mystified and frustrated him. James and Russ’s rooms were on the top floor, along with three other spare bedrooms and a library. Harry’s was tucked away in the basement, like he was some dirty secret. Harry had spent his whole life hidden away. 

On the flip side of the coin, his room was larger than he could have ever imagined. And he had a _bed!_ A cloud soft bed with thick blankets and pillows. He’d almost cried at the sight of it, but didn’t want to give James a reason. 

James who hadn’t looked at him once during the tour. Was Harry really such a burden? He’d been thought to be dead, here he was. Shouldn’t James be ecstatic? Or was Harry really a freak, like the Dursleys had claimed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on a few other stories atm. (I'm excited for my Right of Conquest HP story where Harry was raised by Sirius in the US, and Harry only comes back in his mid-20s. Lots of new relationship dynamics! I posted the first chapter! The fic is called The Horntail Party)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter (by my standards lol)

* * *

Harry had never worn such high-end clothes. They were even _new!_ No more cast off Dudley clothes that were always stained and ripped.

“Is this alright?” he asked James, despite not wanting to sound weak. 

James had given Lily a drink and she was sleeping upstairs for a short while. She’d only been around him for a few days, but now her absence felt strange—Like without him there she’d forget about him and cast him away. 

“It will do.” James stood firmly in front of him. “We need to talk before the guests arrive.” 

Ah, now was the catch, the fly in the ointment, the twist that would turn this dream into a proper nightmare. 

“There will be some very important people. You don’t know anything about this world. You are to speak only when spoken to. If anyone asks about your time _before,_ say the Daily Prophet lied. You tell them a dark wizard had you and you can’t say anything else.” James’ eyes were hard; he was not to be argued with. 

“Yes, sir,” Harry said automatically, conditioned and hating himself and James for it. 

James stared at him a moment longer. “Let Russ handle the reporters.” 

He turned and walked away. Harry waited a moment before following. 

*

The only time Harry had seen this many people gathered was during school assemblies. But here he wasn’t ignored, nor could he hide in a corner with a book. And everything was so _loud._ The music, the people, and questions. 

Harry should have practiced his smile in the mirror. His face felt like it would shatter if he forced another smile. 

There seemed to be a few different groups. Some asked about his relationship with Russ, those that fawned after Lily, and the brown-nosers. 

Prodding groups trying to dig up his past. For those, he didn’t answer. He didn’t know what James was planning, but he wasn’t going to give him a leg up. 

And Russ’s group of friends. Many stared at him, expecting him to act just like Russ, before Harry disappointed them with his silence or awkward way of speaking. They were their own sort of headache. They flocked around Russ, the same way Dudley had stood in the middle of his little gang. 

Harry couldn’t risk getting on their bad side and ending up as their target. He’d never before had a friend beyond the characters in the books he read. 

For some reason, people wanted to shake his hand. 

Harry would rather curl up in his new, heavenly bed and hope when he woke he wouldn’t be locked in a cupboard. 

Russ’s laughter cut through the noise. He was so happy. 

One constant of the part was how Lily’s eyes tracked him. So far she’d only ever said his name. He was curious how she’d known it was him at St. Mungo’s when he’d been covered in bandages. Maybe it was some more of this ‘magic’. 

James wasn’t too far behind when it came to watching him. It set his nerves on edge worse than the strangers who tried to talk to him. 

A man brushed against him, a letter passing from his hand into Harry’s unsuspecting one. They shared a glance and Harry knew to hide away the post. Whatever was in it, wasn’t meant for prying eyes. He’d look at it later.

One of the more annoying people to crowd Harry was Ron’s mother, Mrs. Weasley. She insisted on touching him, commenting on his weight, and trying to feed him. Harry tried to extract himself from her with little success. He wasn’t the only one stuck in her orbit, a girl, Ginny Weasely. With the few social cues Harry knew, he could tell that Russ and his friends bullied her. Mrs. Weasely also fussed over her. Ginny looked almost as miserable as him. 

They shared a commiserating look and it almost made Harry smile. 

Just as he thought he could sneak away he was cornered by an elderly woman. Just as quick, James appeared. 

“Lady Longbottom, how can I help you tonight?” James asked, his smile strained. 

Harry now had a face to the name. She was the one who thought Harry’s ‘death’ and ending up the Dursleys were nefarious. He almost wished it was true so he had more than just the Dursleys to hate. 

“I’m here to speak to your _heir._ ” She made a dismissive hand motion, but James was not deterred. 

“Your conspiracy theories aren’t welcomed here. Maybe you should be focusing on your own heir. Nevell doesn’t seem to be having fun.” James gestured with his chin towards Russ and his group. There was a red faced boy in the middle who looked close to tears. 

Lady Longbottom’s lips formed a flat line. She ignored James and nodded at Harry. “We’ll speak later, Heir Potter, of important matters.” 

James left without a word, going back to Lily who was wringing her hands. Her eyes turned away from Harry. 

It was as good enough time as any. Harry went to one of the (countless) bathrooms in the manor. He pulled out the envelope. There was a glossy wax seal stamped on it. Purple and grey with a large M on the front and dragons flanking it. These wizard people were big on ornate nonsense. It did have a sense of class too it though. 

In elegant penmanship, that Harry could never hope to achieve, was more than one thing that gave him pause. 

_Hadrian Potter,_

_Allow me to introduce myself. I am Narcissa Malfoy nee Black._

_I welcome you back to civilization. If The Daily Prophet’s reports are even half true then you are far stronger than a young boy should have to be. St Mungo’s is an esteemed hospital, but the healers in France craft better potions. I’ll have them owled as soon as possible._

_I am from a prominent wizarding family, as are you. The Malfoys, Blacks, and Potters are part of the wizarding aristocracy. I am unaware of what your father has told you, but my cousin, Sirius Black, is your godfather. You must forgive his absence as he is currently locked up in Azkaban, Magical Britain’s chief prison, for betraying your family to He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named. That is a different matter though. As he is incarcerated, and you were presumed dead, the Black family’s estate, holdings, and vote in the Wizengamot went to me. As Sirius had no children and he is your godfather, all those assets and responsibilities are now yours._

_Your title is Lord Black, Heir Potter. It has a great value. In order for me to sign over all this, we’ll have to meet at the Ministry of Magic and Gringotts, a bank._

_James Potter will be strongly against this due to the Malfoy and Black families long held beliefs that contrast with his own. Our families have not seen eye-to-eye more often than not, but he has no right to hold you back. Within a month of the previous Lord or Lady’s title being relinquished due to death or circumstances, the heir is meant to ascend._

_Do whatever you like with this information, but The Daily Prophet will doubtlessly pick up the story._

_If you ever need help or just a willing ear, I'm here for you._

_With Great Joy,_

_Narcissa Malfoy_

Harry had a lot to think on.

*

It wasn't hard to see that James disliked Harry almost as much as he liked Russ. Which was really saying something considering James treated Russ like a prince.

Harry had the feeling James would have sent him right back to the Dursleys, if not for Lily. She liked being around him, and James adored her.

Harry was told to stay inside, to stay out of sight whenever Russ's friends were around. 

Russ was, unsurprisingly, oblivious about the whole thing.

He had dinner with his 'family'. With having so much food available to him, Harry didn't give a damn that Russ talked nonstop. He went on about himself and the adventures that he'd been on, but he hadn't really been on. Harry had read the titles of those books he'd given him. Russ was talking about them as if they were true.

Tony really hoped that he was joking…

With an access to healing potions (the ones from Lady Malfoy hadn't appeared), food, and rest, Harry's mind and body never felt lighter. He didn't have the hesitation in his movement now that he wasn't constantly under scrutiny.

There was still fear though, fear that he'd wake up to Petunia's shrieks, Dudley’s thundering footsteps down the stairs, Vernon’s meaty fists. 

Fear of James.

*

Like Lady Malfoy said (and possibly because of her), The Daily Prophet picked up on the story of his supposed new title. James was less than pleased about it. 

A man Harry didn’t know had come out of the fireplace and he could hear him and James shouting, but couldn’t make sense of it. 

At the table, Lily almost looked like she was presiding over her two sons as they had breakfast. Her eyes were shallow though, following every bite he took. She stacked more and more food on Harry's plate.

“The Black family are all dark wizards,” Russ said. “You don’t want anything to do with them. I’m surprised da never changed your godfather.” Russ cringed. “Though I suppose it makes sense.” 

A dark wizard? Whatever that meant. It looked like Harry had been doomed to either spend his childhood with either abusive muggles or a murderous man. Now with James, who was starting to show his true colors. 

“Who’s your godfather?” 

Russ smiled. “Albus Dumbledor, the greatest wizard that ever lived, excluding Godric Gryffindor! It’s going to be great! Me, you, and Ron in Gryffindor tower! Da has told me all about the secret passages and,” Harry zoned him out. He’d heard it all before. 

James came stomping in, interrupting Russ. 

“Russ, go visit Ron. I’ve already cleared it with Molly,” James ordered, and Russ didn’t even question him. James stared pinned Harry down and answered the question on whether Harry should go with Russ quite clearly. 

Russ didn’t even give Harry a backwards glance as he left. 

Harry tried not to fidget, tried not to imagine the pain James could rain down on him. Not just fists and berating, but magic too. A new way of torture. Something so bad it had left his mother comatose for nearly a decade. 

“Twiggy,” James called out. A house elf popped into the room. “Watch Lils. If anything happens, have one of the others alert me and St. Mungo’s.”

The house elf practically threw herself at his feet, ‘honored’ with his trust. It made Harry distinctly uncomfortable. 

Without even a warning or a word of explanation, James grabbed Harry’s arm and they apparated away. Harry fell on his rear, having been sitting when James magicked them away. James pulled him to his feet before anyone noticed. 

“It’s Russ Potter!” someone whispered loudly.

“You old goat, it’s the other Potter!” 

“The Boy Who Died!” 

A witch moved towards them— _everyone_ in the dingy pub started swarming them. 

Harry could barely breathe.

James laughed boyishly. “It’s alright everyone. Please give us some space. We’re just visiting the bank.” He put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. He flinched under James’ strong grip. He couldn’t shy away though. “Next week is the birthday bash. Harry will be doing an interview for all to see.” 

Harry’s thoughts shortcurcited. He didn’t know his exact date of birth. The Dursleys had never told. He only knew it was in summer because the teachers used to annonce whose birthday it was in class—Though he’d suspected they just didn’t care. 

“What day is my birthday?” He asked before he could think better of it. 

The crowd made noises that ranged from coos to words of sympathy. 

“Harry, don’t be silly. You know it’s the 31st of July. You were just saying last night how excited you were for it.” 

If Harry didn’t react, he could already feel the beating he would get. He had to downplay this. 

“Right.” Harry choked out a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as strained as he felt. 

With a few more words, the crowd disbursed. 

Once there was a wide berth between them and the people, James spoke softly. “Do you remember the rules I told you about?” How could Harry forget?

“Don’t speak unless spoken to. Don’t talk to reporters. Say the newspaper lied,” Harry recited. He’d lived under far stricter rules before. These ones were almost a relief—if not for James’ heavy hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s for your own good.” 

*

Harry openly gawked as they went through Diagon Alley. It was… amazing. He had no idea that his head had been hit so many times could come up with this. He’d have to thank Dudley for casting off all his books. They must have been a key factor in his coma-dream. Though that would get him another beating, speaking to Dudley, let alone admitting he’d used something meant for their precious piggy. 

Harry wanted to ask why they were going to the bank, but hoped it had something to do with the money Lady Malfoy mentioned. He’d never had a pence to his name. If she was telling the truth, well, if he was smart, he might be able to use it to get some semblance of safety. He’d heard it enough to know that money equaled power. 

Inside the bank, it was staffed by short… well, he wasn’t certain how to describe them beyond their long, tapered noses and pointy ears. Hopefully that wasn’t how wizards looked when they got older, not that Harry would mind if it meant he had enough magic to keep away the ones that would hurt him.

James released his hold on him. Harry subtly rolled his shoulders, but the new muscle knot didn’t leave. 

James gave a respective nod to the one manning the front desk. “I’m here for a meeting with Malfoy and a Wizengamot clerk.” He was clearly not happy about it. 

The being sneered, but directed them through a door. The walls transitioned from polished marble to the natural curves of stone. 

“Kingsley!” James said happily, greeting the Black man. “How did you get tasked with this?”

“With the low number of crimes I’d do anything to get out of the Ministry.” The pair chuckled, but Harry was more focused on the prim woman. He didn’t know much about wizarding fashion, but could tell just by looking at her that they were high end. 

Her pure blue eyes looked him over. It wasn’t cold, or in disgust, but something more of an idle curiosity. She smiled, but it was unreadable. 

“Heir Black-Potter, it is wonderful to meet you,” Lady Malfoy said with a slight bow. 

Harry returned it in kind, but felt immensely awkward. “It’s nice to meet you too.” 

With a sweep of a well manicured hand, she directed them to a table that had a neat stack of parchments on them. The seats were dreadfully uncomfortable. 

“How are you finding the wizarding world, young man? May I call you Harry?” Lady Malfoy asked.

“Stow it, Malfoy.” James cut in. “We’re here for business. Nothing else.”

Harry gaped at James and his rudeness. Lady Malfoy’s lips quirked into something amused, yet bored at the same time. 

Kingsley ignored their interaction, spreading out three pieces of parchment. “Do you know what the Wizengmont is, Harry?” he asked kindly. 

Harry hadn’t asked James when the newspaper article came out, and Russ knew next to nothing beyond that the Potters had a seat. Thankfully Harry had gotten some answers from one of the older house elves. 

“It makes the laws and sends people who break them to jail.” He turned to James. “It wouldn’t function without the Aurors to capture the criminals and enforce the laws though.” James showed no response to Harry’s attempt at a compliment. Russ had been more than happy to tell him about what James did for work. 

“Five points to Gryffindor,” Kingsley said, confusing Harry. He tried not to let it show though. Kingsley pushed forward the first piece of parchment. “This states that you acknowledge Sirius Black as your godfather.”

“You don’t have to sign that, Harry. I’ve already put in the works to make Headmaster Dumbledore your new godfather,” James said while pushing away the parchment. 

“You know the law, Potter,” Malfoy said, her grin brightened with white teeth. “A godparent would have to relinquish the right for it to be changed. It’s blood magic, dear.” 

“Blood magic.” James spit on the ground, eliciting another sneer from the being who had escorted from the halls. “ _Dark_ magic.” 

“Hmm, is that so? It seemed you had no problem using it when you made Cousin Sirius his godfather.” She let out a tittering laugh. “I don’t know why you’re so against this, _Acting_ Lord Potter.” The apples of her cheeks took on a delighted pink shade. “I thought you would celebrate having a second seat in the Wizengamot.” 

Acting? It was another mystery he’d have to carefully parse out. 

James was gearing up for a fight.

“Us goblins like to keep our appointments,” the (evidently) goblin said from by the door. 

James’ lips formed a thin line.

Kingsley looked back and forth at James and Malfoy, before moving the parchment and an inkwell with a quill in it to Harry. 

Harry licked his lips, hating the tension in the air. He signed the document, drops of ink splattering on it and making him blush. 

Kingsley checked it over, thankfully not mentioning the mess Harry had made. He gave a slight nod then grabbed the other two. 

“This contract transfers the stewardship of the Black seat in the Wizengamot from Lady Narcissa Malfoy to you, as well as affirms your new title.” There were two blank spots. He found his own and signed it, briefly thinking that he probably should have read it before signing it. 

Kingsley handed it to Lady Malfoy to sign. Her cursive was exemplary. 

“Thank you, Lord Black, Heir Potter.” The titles startled Harry. He glanced at James and he was scowling. “Here’s a list of books and treaties you should read up on before the next Wizengamot session in December. If the Wizengamot has a trial that will be contested, you will be summoned regardless.” Kingsley gave him a smile that did nothing to ease Harry’s rising panic. “James can show you the ropes.” Kingsley winked at James.

“I’ll be acting as his proxy,” James said firmly. 

Lady Malfoy made a tutting noise. “Unless you try to get the Ministry to deem Lord Black as an invalid, younger lords and ladies have taken their seats proudly before him.” 

“He was raised by dark wizards,” James hissed out at her then looked to Kingsley. The other wizard didn’t meet his eyes. “He isn’t fit.”

“Your drivel may fool some, Potter, but I am far from being part of the ignorant masses. The Malfoys have many ears in the Ministry.” She made a cutting, dismissive hand motion. 

“That bollocks you had printed misconstrued his situation at best!” 

Harry sunk into his seat. He wanted to speak out, set the record straight, but knew it could, it _would,_ be detrimental to his health. 

The goblin cleared its throat harshly. “You can quibble about your _wizard_ politics elsewhere. Manager Shardnet will be here shortly and he does not like to wait.” 

“As you say.” Lady Malfoy rose, unfurling a green fan that had moving silver peacocks on it. “I look forward to seeing you in the Wizengamot, Lord Black. Perhaps you will be sorted into the same house as my Draco. You two will have so much fun.” 

James cursed out something that made no sense to Harry, but startled a laugh out of her. 

There was a breath of silence after she left before Kingsley spoke up. “I won’t be able to make the party, James, but I’ll owl in my gifts.” 

The two wizards exchanged a few more words before another goblin entered. Kingsley bid them goodbye. 

“Let’s get right down to business, Lord Black. I am Manager Shardnet, the secondary keyholder of the Black’s vaults and Lady Malfoy relinquished her stewardship role and key already.” The chair resized for the goblin then heightened so he had a clear view of the table. He set a large stack of parchment on the table. “The Black lineage has many estates and vaults that you are now entitled to, including Former Lord Sirius Black’s personal holdings. There is nothing you need to sign as you inherited all of it automatically with your new role as Lord Black. This role will either become permanent on Sirius Black’s death or relinquished if he is released from Azkaban.” James let out a derisive comment that Shardnet ignored. “Acting Lord Potter, I must ask you to leave the room.”

“I’m his bloody father—”

“And have no part in his lordship or assets linked to the Black family.” 

“Harry!” 

“He can stay,” Harry squeaked out, hating himself a little bit for the fear that nearly strangled him. 

Shardnet sneered. 

What followed was an hour of Shardnet listing off properties the Black family owned, where they were, how they were currently being used, and the annual income of the properties they rented out and the businesses they held stock in. Maps that differed from the ones he’d been taught in school showed cities and towns he’d never heard of in which he now owned real estate. There were even a few shops in Diagon Alley, and Knockturn Alley, but James made it clear they were never going there even though it looked close. More of his dark wizard ravings.

There were numerous vaults. Manager Shardnet commented that after the owner of a personal account had been dead for over 200 years and hadn’t left it to anyone it was merged with the main family vault. Lady Malfoy hadn’t been able to get into Sirius’ personal account since he hadn’t linked it with his family’s. Harry only had access because Sirius was his godfather and indisposed. 

“Harry, you should donate all that money to those that were hurt by dark magic. The Black family _owes_ it to all those people,” James said after he and Shardnet had an argument about James not having access despite Harry being a minor. Apparently, Harry being a lord made him an adult in at least Gringotts’ view.

“I, err, don’t know who to donate it to.” Harry had no plan on doing so either. He wouldn’t give up his tenuous thread of freedom. 

“Exactly! That’s why you should sign it over to me!” 

“Gringotts can create a list of proper charities for you to look over, Lord Black. Not all charities are reputable. It is Gringotts pleasure to ensure your money is handled with the utmost care.” Despite his words, Shardnet was scowling. Or was that just how all goblins looked?

“Brilliant. Please do that.” Thankfully, that shut down James’ arguing. It didn’t stop his burning glare though. 

Shardnet’s chair resized again, his feet touching the ground. “Lord Black, if you would please follow me.” 

James tried to come along, which started another argument. Harry just let them go at it. At least James’ ire wasn’t directed at him this time. James tried to lean on Harry to get him to allow him to go to the vaults, but Sharnet quoted some Gringotts rule that shut him up. 

“Don’t doddle Harry. I don’t like leaving Lily alone for long.” 

Harry bit his tongue. James was the one that chose to leave her. Harry hadn’t even known where they were going, let alone what it had to do with him. 

He gave a shallow nod. 

Shardnet made no comments as they walked through the stone passages. Harry wanted to ask him about Lady Malfoy’s comment about James being the acting lord, if James’ behavior was normal, and if he knew why James hated him. But before he could, Harry was screaming as a rickety cart sent them plummeting into the dark depths and through a waterfall. 

When they stopped Harry was handed a key. Shardnet performed some sort of magic, _blood_ magic to bind it to him. Good thing he didn’t do it in front of James. He explained the magic behind it, assuring Harry that no matter what happened, the key couldn’t be stolen. It could be loaned though, not that Harry ever planned on doing that. 

Shardnet and Harry had to put their hand on the vault for it to accept him. 

The first vault left Harry breathless, gold coins stacked to the high ceiling, plants that were thriving, and a large glass vat with something inside, something _moving._ It was just so much and beyond his wildest dreams.

“You… you said this isn’t the main vault?” Harry’s voice was strained, eyes unable to look away from it all. 

Shardnet hummed in confirmation. 

Harry licked his lips. “And it’s mine?”

“Indeed.” Shardnet sounded impatient. 

“Right.” 

Harry started stuffing his pockets, not even knowing what the coins were worth, beyond being more than he’d ever had before. 

Shardnet cleared his throat. “For a small fee Gringotts can provide you with an expanding wallet with an anti-theft charms.”

Harry blushed, realizing he must look like a fool. 

“Yes, please.” Shardnet pulled out a leather pouch with drawstrings. It looked like the fancy bag of marbles that Dudley had gotten last year. 

Shardnet handed it to him. Harry was surprised that it was butter soft. He untied the strings and transferred the money from his pockets into the pouch. “It’s not getting heavier,” he exclaimed in surprise. 

“Standard feather-light spell.” Shardnet seemed annoyed to have to explain that. Hary ducked his head, feeling embarrassed and a little angry. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t know these things. It bubbled in his gut, but he didn’t know what to do about it. Luckily, he was soon distracted again. 

Shardnet directed Harry to a golden plaque on the wall. “This is the list of everything in this vault.” He reached up with his overly long fingers onto the plack and made a flicking motion. Harry gaped as the list moved, showing more information. 

“Wicked,” Harry whispered to himself. Magic was amazing. 

Harry dearly hoped he never woke from this coma-dream. 

*

Harry’s mind was a bit boggled by everything he saw. It seemed like an endless rollercoaster of treasure, Shardnet remarking on the previous owner of the vault. Harry was initially confused why the goblins hadn’t merged them all, but then realized there might not be a vault big enough to contain so much wealth. 

“Only two vaults left,” Shardnet said gruffly. “Sirius Black’s personal vault and the most secure one.” 

Harry nodded, wondering if there was a reason for that order. 

Like all the other vaults, Sharnet had to key Harry into it. 

Sirius Black’s vault was surprisingly light when it came to gold. Harry had to immediately revise that. Sirius’ vault was teaming with money, but Harry’s perception was skewed by all he’d seen in the other vaults. 

Harry went to the gold plack and scrolled through it. One thing caught his attention. Sirius’ journal that dated from 1971 to 1981, the year he betrayed Harry’s family. 

Shardnet saw him pause. 

“Often wizards inlist Gringotts to use one of our specialty spells that returns the item to the vault if touched by someone unauthorized to have it.” 

Harry cast his eyes around the vault, spying a leather bound scarlet notebook on a pedestal. It was surprisingly thin for covering a decade. But… there could be answers there. Sirius was James’ friend before the betrayal. It could give Harry an insight on his father and hopefully make navigating their interactions easier. 

There was also a piece of folded parchment on it. Harry hesitantly went over to it. 

“Is it cursed?” he asked. More than one item in the Black vaults had deadly spells that Shardnet had to warn him about. 

“Nothing in this vault is cursed,” Shardnet assured him, though his words didn’t match his scowl. 

Harry lifted the parchment and nearly dropped it. Inkied words appeared.

_For my child or children. If I am not able to guide you, let the Marauders' Map do so._

Sirius’ signature was flourishing in a way Harry knew he could never match. 

Instructions and an explanation appeared in a different handwriting. Harry gaped. The map would be dead useful. 

“Does this have the same spell as the journal?” Harry asked breathlessly. 

“No, it is bound to Lord Black and his heirs.” 

“Wicked.” He tucked it away in the folds of his robe, along with the journal.

His mind was still racing as they went to the last vault. 

Harry had thought it would be teaming with gold, like all the other ones, but instead there was a single pedestal with a necklace on top. 

“It’s not cursed,” Shardnet answered before Harry could ask. 

On the plaque there was only one thing listed: Veritas Necklace. 

He approached the podium. The chain was silver and looked like if he wore it, it would reach his belly-button. 

The pendant was… He recognized the Black family crest that was connected to the chain. From the bottom was a circular piece of glass that had a swirl of colors, mostly green and ash grey. 

“What does it do?” Harry asked while lifting it carefully. 

“Unknown. Gringotts only requires to be told if an item is cursed.” 

Harry reached for it and touched the chain. His hand shot backwards. The chain felt warm. Right. Magic. 

He calmed himself before picking it up. There was a slight weight to it and the colors really were beautiful. 

“It is bound to the Lord and Lady of the Black family.” 

Harry nodded shallowly before draping over his neck—It started getting tighter. 

He clawed at it, so many memories of Vernon choking him coming to mind. 

But then it stopped shortening, the pendant reaching lower-chest level. 

Harry took in a deep breath, trying not to choke on his fast breaths. Everything was just too much, constantly twisting. He couldn’t find his balance. 

He’d _never_ find balance. 

“Enough,” he whispered to himself. 

“This vault still will have an annual fee to keep it open, regardless of whether it contains something or not. I would caution you not to give it up due to it being one of the best vaults and procuring a new one takes decades.” 

“I’ll keep it.” Shardnet had already talked about the fees, but they were easily covered by the interest that was accruing, not to mention all the money from the Black owned properties. 

“Very good, Lord Black.” 

He tucked the necklace away under his robes and they made their way back up Gringotts.

James was scowling when Harry saw him again. He grabbed Harry and they apparated away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a lot of fics have Harry have to wait to till he's 'of age' to get his lordship, so I decided to flip that~
> 
> I'm really excited to explore the things Harry got from the vault~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update. I've been distracted with writing a time mash HP fic where James Potter and Tom Riddle are fighting to be Head Boy, with some **Pureblood courting** stuff. 
> 
> The other one I'm working on is another twin HP fic where most of the story is told through letters,   
> **Metamorpmagus!Harry** , and eventually Harry accepting they're trans. 
> 
> Those have yet to be posted, but I have a powerful!Harry, Right of Conquest fic called **The Horntail Party**.

* * *

Harry could tell Russ was starting to get annoyed. And it was stupid, and out of Harry’s control, but Russ kept throwing him angry glances. 

It wasn’t Harry’s fault that their mother wouldn’t look away from him even as Russ talked to her, talked  _ at _ her. Harry had tried to leave the room to put the issue to rest, but Lily had just followed him and Russ scowled even more. Harry ended up just sitting on an overstuffed chair with Lily running her fingers through his hair, not looking away from the wild mess it was. Harry noticed his hair was two shades darker than Russ’. 

“ _ Mum,” _ Russ whined, as if he didn’t know that she wasn’t all there. 

“Harry, share your mother.” James gave him a sharp look. Harry nearly gaped. _Share_ _her?_ Harry hadn’t even known he had living parents a month ago. It wasn’t even like he kept pulling at her skirt like an errant child or something. 

He held his tongue. What could he even do? 

It didn’t help that James was extra foul today. It had been less than 24 hours since they went to the bank, and the newspaper had reported about Harry becoming Lord Black. Harry hadn’t had a chance to read the article. James had been quick to blast it with his wand, nearly making Harry flee the breakfast table. 

Did James not understand how terrifying he was? Or did he just not care? 

Russ seemed to be completely oblivious to it all and… Harry never had a friend before, but he was pretty sure they didn’t talk over each other. Harry couldn’t get a word in edgewise, even when Russ asked about muggle things. 

With the newspaper article, it was the second time he’d been in the paper. He had to wonder how much of his life would be plastered there. How much more would be revealed? He went from being a secret under the cupboard, to Russ’ accessory. And what would happen if James’ escalated things and ended up in the papers? It would only make Harry’s situation worse. He also had the feeling that the nobility wasn’t exactly subject to the law. What that meant for Harry was unknown.

Harry hadn’t gotten a chance to look at Sirius’ journal. Lily followed him almost everywhere, getting anxious even when they separated for using the bathroom. At night he was exhausted from the potions he’d been prescribed. 

Russ perked up, catching James and Harry’s attention. 

“What mum?” Russ asked. 

Harry carefully turned his head her way, trying not to get his glasses knocked off by her shaking hands. 

Her lips were moving, pale and thin. Her eyes were gleaming, the same shape as his but hazel—like Russ’. Strange how they were identical twins, yet had so many differences. Harry couldn’t blame malnourishment for their different eye colors, but he could blame it for him being shorter than Russ. 

“What is it, Lils?” James said, making Harry flinch. He hadn’t noticed James coming over until he was already too close. Lily’s fingers in his hair tightened. Too much like Petunia grabbing his hair and dragging him by it.

Harry jerked away, sadly taking Lily with him. The fact that she was feather-light was the only reason he didn’t scream. 

“Lily!” James’ shouting just made it worse. He carefully pulled her up and started whispering comforts.

Harry stayed curled up on the ground, protecting his head and stomach. He hated the confused look Russ cast his way before turning towards their mother. 

“My wand. My wand,” Lily rasped. Her hands were grasping at the air. 

“Of course Lily.” Jame put a kiss on her cheek. “Russ, go get her wand from my nightstand.” He ran away faster than Harry could ever go, even when Dudley was at his worst with Harry Hunting. 

Harry tried to uncurl, but his heart was still racing. If he could control himself, he might be able to sneak to his room. He wasn’t fast enough. 

Russ reappeared, not even breathing hard despite running up two staircases. He handed the alabaster colored wand to Lily. Harry briefly wondered why hers looked different than James’.

Lily stood, turning in his direction. Harry’s breath caught. He knew wands could do wonderous things, but had no doubt they could do equally horrible acts.

He cringed as her lips moved silently, wand conducting. A wisp of light came out. Harry squeezed his eyes shut as it shot towards him.

But then he felt something he’d never before. It was positive, but he didn’t have a name for it. Almost like the first time he’d slept in a bed, like when he had a full belly when all he’d known was hunger. And something inside of him ached. 

He opened his eyes, a sob catching in his throat. A doe was nestled against him, her chin resting on his knees. He cried wishing the feeling would never end.

*

Harry wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel when it came to Russ. He just… had so much energy. He seemed incapable of sitting still. Harry tried to ask him more about the wizarding world, but Russ was only interested in what was immediately around them—That and his friends visited every other day.

Frankly, Harry was exhausted. He was still taking the potions St. Mungo’s prescribed. He felt his weight becoming healthy. Going up the stairs no longer winded him. He was tempted just to lay in the luxury of his bed all day, but he didn’t dare be alone in the house with James, even if Lily was there. Everytime Russ went to go to his friends’ houses, Harry tried to follow suit. 

Today they were at the Burrow, which Harry had a special distaste for. It was loud and there were too many people there. The twins were always causing mayhem. Percy chided them randomly. Russ and Ron seemed to fuel each others’ shouting. When he tried to relax under the shade of a tree, just enjoying the fresh air when he wasn’t forced to labor away, Mrs. Weasley picked at him. He could tell she was trying to help, or at least fatten him up, but the few times something like that had happened in his waking life, the Dursleys were quick to turn the adult against him. Any kindness shown to him was taken away before a spark of hope could ever make a place in his chest. 

There was one positive. He commiserated with the youngest Weasely, Ginny. He learned that she was actually Ron’s twin, only a few minutes younger than him. Yet, Mrs. Weasley didn’t let her leave her side. Ginny looked completely resigned to it. 

“Can you tell me more about Hogwarts?” he asked, trying to change the subject away from him. 

Mrs. Weasley perked right up. “Hogwarts is the most prestigious wizarding school in Europe! There are four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. You’ll spend your school years living in the dorm you’re sorted in. All my children go to Gryffindor, just like their father. It’s for the brave and bold!” She smiled brightly. “I was a Hufflepuff which is where one goes if they want to make friends for life. Ravenclaw is for the ones who love learning. Though I heard it could be quite difficult to get into their dorm on occasions.” Her lips pursed. “Slytherin is, well, deary, I suggest you avoid those in green and silver. Slytherin corrupts children. The children of criminals congregate there and influence the other ones. I’m not sure why Albus hasn’t disbanded it yet—Though I worry that if he did those that would be resorted might poison the other houses.” 

Harry nodded in thought. Russ was sure he was going to Gryffindor, and taking Harry along with him. Harry wasn’t sure if he was exactly brave… Maybe the opposite. What was the point of ‘bravery’ when no matter what he did the Dursley would make him regret it? 

He didn’t think he was exactly bold either. Russ was brash, loud, and careless with his words. All the things that would have landed Harry a beating. 

Harry liked the idea of Hufflepuff. He’d never really had friends before. That would be nice, but… but when they saw how pathetic he was, how he even disgusted his flesh and blood… Harry didn’t want to think too hard about it.

When it came to Ravenclaw, there was a possibility there. Harry couldn’t quite say he had a love for learning, almost the opposite. He’d been forced to make mistakes so that he didn’t one-up Dudley in grades. He hadn’t had to study as hard as he originally did. But… Well, he wasn’t sure how grading worked at Hogwarts. For all he knew it was a simple pass-fail system. And maybe it was a stereotype, but weren’t the kids that loved books quieter? He could use some peace. Harry was still reeling from the oddity of this new life.

And Slytherin? That just sounded needlessly complicated. 

*

When the worst of the heat was over, Mrs. Weasley had shooed him and Ginny to the garden to de-gnome it. Harry felt a sinking feeling, reminding him too much of his times with the Dursleys, but Mrs. Weasley gave them cups of lemonade and directed Harry to some well worn gloves.

“I’ll show you how to do it,” Ginny said while putting on a wide brimmed hat. He doubted the sun did anything good for the redhead. 

Beyond the hedge that was shoulder high, he could see Russ, Ron, and their other friends playing on brooms.

“Are you grounded?” Harry asked after Mrs. Weasley went back inside.

Ginny gave him a curious look.

Harry blushed, though he wasn’t sure why. “You know, like in trouble so you’re not allowed to play with the others?” Unless de-gnoming was fun, but it certainly didn’t sound like it.

Ginny sighed. “No, sort of, I don’t know.” Her green eyes turned flinty as she looked towards Russ and her brothers. “I’m not allowed to fly.” Harry went to ask more. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Harry shut up, reading her tone. It wasn’t dangerous like he was used to hearing from the Dursleys and James, but he didn’t want to push her. 

She explained that gnomes lived in holes and looked like long potatoes. She made it clear that they bite so he wasn’t to take off his gloves. 

They started on opposite sides of the garden, and Harry was fine with that.

* 

They were in Diagon Alley and Harry kept fingering the pouch of money in his pocket. He had money to  _ buy _ things! But he had to be careful with it. James was already pissed that Harry hadn’t signed over the Black family money to him or donated its entirety. 

Thankfully he wasn’t with them, instead taking Lily to her appointment at St. Mungo’s. 

They were shopping for school supplies, but since his and Russ’ birthday was only days away, he was trying to figure out the best gift to get him. Something Quidditch related was the obvious choice, but he had a feeling Russ already had everything there was when it came to that. 

The first stop they made was at the bookstore, Flourish and Blotts. There were seven tables set up near the front, one for each school year at Hogwarts. When Russ picked up the bundle of books for first-years, another popped into its vacated space. 

Harry grabbed another.

Fred and George saddled up beside Ron. “Sorry, ickle brother, you’ll have to do with the family textbooks—”

“And the mess we left behind.”

“Boys,” Mrs. Weasley said gruffly. “Those books survived your older brothers and I warned you ahead of time that I’d be inspecting them.” 

“They’re fine, mum.”

“Or at least the ones for Ginny are.” They disappeared between the bookshelves before Mrs. Weasley could speak again. Their father looked on with mild amusement. 

“Mum, can I please get new ones? They probably scratched out all the important parts,” Ron whined. Harry could sympathize. Dudley had ruined more than one book before Harry could take it to the safety of his cupboard. 

“Not to worry, Ronald. If those two left a mess you can always share with Ginny in the Gryffindor common room and in class.”

Ron stomped his foot. “I don’t want to have to sit by her in class!” 

“Lower your voice, Ron,” Mr. Weasley said, speaking for the first time since Harry met him. Though to be fair it seemed like anytime someone tried to approach Harry or Russ, Mr. Weasley waved them off. He was used to Russ’ fame. 

Ron looked at both his parents in turn. “Then at least let me get a new wand, not Charlie’s leftover one.”

Mrs. Weasley puffed up. “You should be grateful that Charlie gave that to you. He could have easily tossed it after getting a fireproof wand for his work with dragons. Instead, he gave it to  _ you. _ When we get home tonight you are to write him a thank you letter. No child of mine will be ungrateful.” 

Ron ducked his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. They must be poor, or frugal to the extreme. 

From the bookstore they went to Slug & Jigger Apothecary. The building had a moldy smell to it and the air felt heavy. 

“Stupid Snivellus,” Russ whispered. His nose was furled in disgust. 

“Snivellus?” Harry asked, gravitating towards the first-year supplies. The Weasleys were outside, arguing about something. The twins were not among them. Percy was nodding along with whatever Mrs. Weasley was saying. 

“He teaches potions and was a right git when mum and da were growing up. He fancied mum and hates da for marrying her.” Russ kicked a giant cauldron before wincing. “He’s a slimy Slytherin that picks on Gryffindors.” 

“Oh.” Just another wonderful adult Harry had to look forward to. 

“He tried to Floo-call da yesterday, but da started shouting at him.” Russ’ smile twisted, showing a glimmer of something Harry didn’t want to contemplate. 

*

They were walking to the Magical Menagerie for Ron to buy supplies for his rat. Harry went to his side, thankful that Russ was distracted by Fred and George. 

“Hey, mate,” he whispered to him. “What do you think I should get Russ for our birthday?” 

Ron gave him a look before grinning. A moment later it faltered. “Er, I wanted to get him a deck of exploding snaps since he’s getting a wand but, uhh. You buy the deck and I’ll buy a mat for the game.”

“Perfect, where do we get those?” 

“I saw a stall that sells them—” Ron frowned. “I’ll get them when you all are getting wands.” 

Harry nodded and pulled out his pouch of money. “How much do you think it will be?” He was trying to be delicate when it came to the Weasleys and money.

“Err, it shouldn’t be too expensive.” Ron’s face was taking on a red hue that nearly matched his hair. 

Harry shifted in spot before pulling out a few coins, slightly more than what he’d paid for one of the non-academic books he’d bought. Ron’s eyes widened, but he pocketed it. Thankfully no one saw. 

Percy walked to them and directed Ron towards the puffskein shampoo.

Harry drifted around, amazed by all the creatures that were far different than anything he’d seen before. 

The voices of the snakes lamenting 

“It’s just not right to keep the animals that can talk caged,” Harry muttered, looking through the clutter of the petstore. He could trace one of the voices to the far wall that held snakes.

Russ laughed, startling Harry. He hadn’t realized he was there. “You sound like a nutter, Harry.” 

He ducked his head, not wanting to stand out even more. 

As much as he wanted to buy one of the snakes and set it free, Russ had mentioned the snake was the sign of Slytherin. James would freak out if Harry so much as looked at a snake.

He stopped in front of a glass enclosure. It had cats that were just a tad bigger than he was used to. Many had flat faces, as if they had run into a wall. Tabbies, calicos, and one with even tiger stripes. 

There was one laid out, head in the corner. It’s tail looked like it belonged to a fox, but with a calico mixture of colors. Something inside him ached. 

In the reflection of the glass he saw Ron pull Russ aside and whisper in his ear. Russ nodded before going to Harry, determination in every step. 

“Do you want one?” Russ asked.

Harry glanced at him. “James would never let me keep one.” 

Russ furrowed his nose when Harry referred to James by name rather than dad. “Course he will. He’s just… having a hard time with the newspaper printing all those lies.” 

Harry’s lips thinned into a hard line. Russ had fallen for James’ lie, despite what the healers said in front of him. He was practically calling Harry a liar. 

“With you and mum back he just has a lot on his plate right now.” 

He nodded, not bothering to try to set him straight. Russ had no reason to believe him, someone who just came into his life, compared to the father he’d always known. The father and home Harry never had. 

Harry considered that maybe there was a grain of truth in it. Maybe ‘dark’ wizards had cursed him to live with the Dursleys… Maybe they’d made them hateful and abusive.

But—But, Harry wasn’t going to fall for that narrative, not when James blatantly lied, disliked him for no reason, and treated him like he was one excuse away from beating him. 

Harry was frankly surprised that he was holding up so well in the face of another hateful adult. His one comfort was that this was a coma-dream. Oh, and that he had riches to his name now. 

“You can go inside and get a closer look if you like,” a store clerk said from beside him, practically making Harry jump. He hadn’t heard him coming. 

“Absolutely.” Russ gave the clerk a winning smile. The worker gave him a second look, probably only realizing who was ‘gracing’ his store. He gaped for a moment and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Brill.” The clerk pulled out his wand and tapped the glass enclosure, a door forming. 

Russ walked in without a moment’s hesitation. The clerk still looked star-struck as he followed him. Harry was really getting fed up with that. 

The enclosure surprisingly didn’t smell like anything despite the shallow litter boxes. The litter was almost shiny and he didn’t see anything else in it. 

“These are all half-kneazles, known for their intelligence, longevity, and good judge of character. They’re one of the three animals allowed at Hogwarts, considered cats. Unlike normal cats they’re all capable of using the toilet.” He started listing where each half-kneazle came from, some from breeders, magical communities, or deep forests.

Harry perked up for a moment at the mention of Ms. Figg. He almost laughed at the absurd idea that it was the same one from Privet Drive Hell. 

Finally he spoke about the calico that had caught Harry’s eye. “This one is a bit of a tragedy. I heard they lost their mate. Spot of bad luck since half-foxes are hard to come by.” 

“I want that one,” Harry said on instinct, staring at the one in mourning. Damn James if he tried to fight him on this later.

“If you’re looking for a half-fox one we can order a better one, for a fee,” the clerk offered.

“No, that one.”

“You heard my brother,” Russ said with his hands in his pockets and chest puffed out. “He wants that one.” 

“Right away, sir, I mean, Mr. Potter,” the clerk stuttered, rushing to do his bidding. 

Russ looked proud of himself. He turned to Harry. “Happy early birthday, brother.” 

*

Harry admitted that Russ’ excitement was contagious. Even in spite of Ron’s clear misery. 

They were heading to get their wands. Ginny looked like she wanted to race ahead, but Mrs. Weasley had a tight hold on her hand. Fred and George were poking fun at Ron. He went over to Percy with a sour look on his face. Whatever he said to him had Percy giving a firm nod.

“Ron and I are going to look around a bit,” Percy said. Harry figured they were off to get Russ’ birthday present. Good.

“Fine, boys. Don’t dawdle.” Mrs. Weasley didn’t even look at them as she spoke. 

“So are we,” either Fred or George said. Mrs. Weasley reeled around to look at them, yanking Ginny as she went.

“You’re most certainly not! That joke shop is a waste of money and you two should be focusing on—” Ginny used her mother’s ranting as an opportunity to break free. She didn’t go far, not walking in step with Harry and Russ, but looking closer at the stalls they passed. 

Mr. Weasley was whistling happily, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. 

In Harry’s arms the cat carrier was heavy with its new occupant, but it was nearly weightless compared to the bags of soil and mulch he used to haul around for that  _ hag. _

At the menagerie Russ had paid for Harry’s present from a red and gold pouch. No doubt James had filled it and hadn’t given Harry even a knut for his school supplies. Harry was just glad he hadn’t had to beg Russ to buy his things. He’d seen how Russ tormented Ginny and that boy from the last party when no adults were watching. No need to give Russ ammunition. 

They entered the wand shop and Russ went straight to the counter. The wand maker gave a little speech along with mentioning their parents’ wands. It was a bit of a gimmick, but didn’t dampen Harry’s excitement. Getting a wand was another step in securing his safety. 

He watched closely as Russ tried out a few wands before the fourth lit up with a warm  _ red and gold _ glow. Those colors were all over the house and Harry was really getting tired of seeing them. 

He let Ginny go next. It took a bit longer, but by the end she was beaming. Mrs. Weasley pulled her aside to lecture her on proper wand care as Mr. Weasley paid for it with a grimace on his face. Russ was showing off his wand to Fred and George. 

Ollivander beckoned Harry forward with his skeletal finger. 

It wasn’t long before Harry was on his seventh wand. A sinking feeling weighed down his gut. If he wasn’t actually a wizard… He didn’t want to consider what James would do. Especially if Harry was stuck alone with him while Russ was at Hogwarts and Lily was not there mentally. 

Ollivander seemed to debate something with himself at the fifteen minute mark before going to the back of his store. He almost hesitantly handed the wand to Harry. 

And warmth seeped into his pores, wind tusseling his hair, and color sparking from the wand. As the magic coursed from him and out of the wand, he believed for just a moment that this world might be real, that this might be his new life. 

“Curious... very curious,” Ollivander said, annoying Harry with his antics. “I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. It so happens that the phoenix whose tailfeather resides in your wand gave another feather... just one other. It is curious that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave your twin that scar that marks him as the Boy Who Lives.” 

Harry glanced at Mr. Weasley since he was the only one close enough to hear, and of course he’d snapped out of his blissful daydreaming to listen.

Doubtlessly it would get back to James and give him another reason to hate him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk if anyone has done it before, but I love the idea of Charlie getting a new wand because it needed to be fire-proof for working with dragons.
> 
> That modified Ollivander quote will hopefully be the only book quote I use.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to Core for getting me to write another chapter! I have lots of stories in the works so it's hard to concentrate on just one!

* * *

Harry named the kneazle-fox mix Griever. It was fitting. 

As he’d predicted, James had been opposed to his new pet. Thankfully Russ had been there and said it was his gift to him before distracting him with showing off his new wand. 

Harry retreated to his room, glad it had an ensuite bathroom. For now he’d keep Griever in his room and hope James forgot about him. 

He let Griever out and he immediately hid under the bed. Harry could sympathize with that. He just hoped they’d have enough time to bond before Hogwarts. 

All his other packages were there already, having been delivered then seemingly moved by one of the house elf. He took his time unpacking everything, robes, school supplies, and things he just fancied. He was still coming to terms with the fact he had money. It had gone against his instincts to buy things that weren’t absolutely necessary, but he was hoping to break himself of that habit sooner than later. 

He repacked the important things in his school trunk. He’d gotten the same model as Russ did, but paid the extra amount to make it tamper-proof, had his initials engraved on it, and gave it charms to shrink it down and make it light. He got the feeling Russ wasn’t in the habit of thinking ahead. 

Harry left out some of his books to skim as well as candies he bought, and the deck of exploding snaps Ron had slipped him. Ron also hadn’t given him any change which Harry thought was suspicious, but he wasn’t going to rock the boat by saying something. 

He called a house elf to ask if they had any wrapping paper. With a snap of his fingers he wrapped the deck of cards—Once again in red and gold. Blimey that was annoying. 

Harry told the elf not to summon him for dinner. He’d had a big lunch and wasn’t keen on being under James’ scrutiny. 

Harry grabbed his history book, feeling like he would probably be behind on it. The book was bone-dry. He stayed awake by munching on the candies that were far sweeter than anything he’d had before. 

Eventually Griever inspected the room before joining Harry on the bed.

*

There was a boon and a burden. Lily liked reading out loud to him, though her monotone was the opposite of helpful. When they’d seen that she was willing to read to Harry, James had set them up in the sitting room. Russ had stayed with them a while before complaining that Harry had her reading textbooks. He wanted Lily to read his ‘adventures’. Harry wasn’t about to torture himself with that. He made an excuse that she’d probably enjoy them more when she recovered. 

He wanted to stay in his room with Griever. They were getting closer, the calico’s colors shifting when he wasn’t looking. His fox tail had a way of flicking that was surprisingly expressive. 

As she read a list of ingredients and their properties from his potion’s textbook, Harry’s nose was in the one of the books Auror Kingsley had recommended for the Wizengamot. Harry was wise enough to put a different book’s sleeve over the cover. 

“Why are you always reading?” Russ complained as he came in the room, speaking over their mother. “Come fly with us.”

Harry held back a sigh. 

“I don’t know anything about the wizarding world, Russ. I need to study.” Harry wasn’t even sure what kind of schooling Russ and other children had, but he doubted it was the same things he did. Harry had to send off a house elf already to get him more basic history books. 

“That’s what Hogwarts is for! Come on! We can’t have brooms as first-years.” Russ nearly stomped his foot. 

Harry tried to find the right words to convince Russ, but he had hardly any experience talking to children his own age, or anyone for that matter. 

“If you keep reading you’ll end up in Ravenclaw.” Russ pulled a face, but it didn’t have the disgust like when he mentioned Slytherin. Harry almost hoped Russ would be sorted into something other than Gryffindor. That would be a laugh. 

“Better than Slytherin,” Harry said, kicking Russ off on an easily ignorable tangent. 

*

Harry still wasn’t used to clothes that fit, let alone fancy ones. 

James had already lectured him on how he was to act at his  _ own damn birthday party.  _

Though, to be fair Harry never had a birthday party before, not that James knew that. He was trying to stuff lies in Harry’s head on where he’d been before St. Mungo’s. As if Harry could suddenly forget all the terror, hunger, and pain he went through for the majority of his life. 

Harry had seen an envelope addressed to him from Auror Kingsley, but James had magicked it away. Hell, James was an  _ Auror.  _ Harry had a feeling that he was going to make their investigation on the Dursleys go away, not that Harry ever expected anything to come from it. Aunt Petunia had easily laid to rest the worries of teachers and other adults that thought something might not be right at home. Harry had learned a long time ago not to get his hopes up. 

Russ’ hair was wilder than usual, and Harry got the distinct feeling that he would be the star of the show despite it being a joint birthday party. Which Harry was happy with. Getting attention was damn near suffocating. 

To lessen the risk he’d dressed in dark, muted colors. Hopefully he’d be able to sink into the background. 

A thought struck him. He might have a birthday cake. It was nearly mind-boggling. 

It pulled a bitter thought to mind, one of the only good days from when he was under the Dursley’s tender love and care. It had been Dudley’s birthday and he’d been distracted with presents. That morning Aunt Petunia had insisted on making his birthday cake for him, which Harry was perfectly fine with—Especially since he knew he wouldn’t even get a crumb. 

He’d hidden during the party upstairs, only seen when he told the wanders that the second floor was off limits. 

As usual, after the guests departed, he was made to clean up their mess. Uncle Vernon was snoring on the couch while Petunia put together a toy that she’d thought was premade. He relished in her annoyed look, but didn’t show it. 

And, as he was taking out the trash, he noticed an absence. Petunia usually poured bleach into any trash that had food in it, but she’d forgotten this time. Outside Harry had dug through it and found a nearly untouched slice of cake. He’d eaten it quickly, fearing she’d remember and come out. The sugar sent star-bursts of delight through his chest. He licked the paper plate clean and mourned that he was already feeling a bit nauseous from the sugar and almost having a full stomach. He’d taken a moment outside to marvel at it before drying his eyes and getting back to work. 

He hoped that today he could have  _ two  _ slices. 

Eventually, a house elf herded him outside. 

It was overwhelming and he hadn’t even been outside for five minutes. They were excited for some band Harry had never heard of. Russ was showing off his wand, thankfully drawing all the attention to him. 

Harry was damn near exhaustion when two cakes were brought to the already laden down table. He was put center stage with Russ, another table behind them with gifts. Wizard birthdays had the ‘make a wish on candles’ tradition, but the birthday song was different. It seemed to be specific to the eleventh birthday though, so he might be mistaken. 

Harry was just glad that he wasn’t meant to open the mountain full of presents in front of everyone. The concept of presents was still new to him, but it was also hollow. None of those people knew him. He only mattered to them because of who his brother was. 

But the cake was heavenly, unlike anything he’d ever had before. Almost bubbly, chocolate frosting that spelled out his name in changing fonts. Frosting fireworks, barely rising over the cake before exploding and falling back onto it. The cake was light and fluffy, a weird pink. 

Russ’ cake was similar but in, surprise surprise, red and gold. His cake was tiered while Harry’s was wide and flat. Harry tried a slice and was happy to think to himself that it wasn’t as good. 

Harry ended up happily stuffed. It made up for this whole charade. 

Not long after, the churning crowd went to the area in front of the stage. 

The Weird Sisters took the stage giving Harry a moment to himself. As he left he heard the lead singer say, “Happy birthday to the Potter twins! We rock because you rock!” They then proceeded to sing a song about Russ’ ‘adventures’. 

He leaned against a tree, the light not reaching him. He breathed in deeply and wondered where his coma-dream would take him next.

*

Harry was only mid-way through the first year of Sirius’ journal. So far it only mentioned James in passing, mostly focusing on a scathing commentary of what was going on around him, along with the Howlers he was getting nearly everyday. The threats of torture and disinheritance just for being in Gryffindor. It looked like James hadn’t been exaggerating on one front: the Black family was ‘dark’. 

Harry could sympathize with Sirius on how he was shunned. 

One boon was that Harry was able to learn more about Hogwarts and the classes he would be taking—Assuming they hadn’t changed that much since Sirius wrote about them. 

Harry really hadn’t figured out what the necklace did. He initially thought the glass might show hidden writing or something. He wasn’t too put off though. There was already a lot going on. This was an easy enough mystery to worry about later. 

Harry set aside the journal, being sure to hide it. He turned off the light and tucked himself in, thoughts still swirling.

Lily was… he supposed she was improving. She’d started whispering whole sentences. James took her for walks around the property. Her eyes didn’t look so flat anymore. 

Harry was still wary of who she would be when she healed. He doubted she’d be much different than Petunia. They came from the same home. That feeling was exasperated by how James treated him. Lily had chosen to marry him. There were three possibilities: she either didn’t know what he was really like, James had changed in her absence, or she was as cruel as him.

Cruel. As if that word even fit. 

No, James was far from cruel; far from the hell the Dursleys put him through. If anything, this was heaven. He had yet to be hit or starved. James’ warnings and threats were almost laughable in contrast. 

Harry didn’t even have to be around him most of the year. He just had to stay under James’ radar, not make waves. If anything, Harry should thank Russ for shining so brightly. Harry was happy to hide in his shadow. 

Mid thought, Griever came over to him and laid on the pillow beside Harry. Griever’s eyes reflected the thin line of light coming from under the door. They seemed to glow, steadily on him. It was comforting. 

*

Harry was rubbing at an old burn mark on his fingertips, trying not to show his irritation. Russ would just not shut up. It was the morning of September 1st. They were having breakfast before they set out for the Hogwarts Express. 

Russ seemed to nearly pee himself with excitement, thoughts that he spit out and James spurred on. 

And… James looked genuinely happy. He was holding Lily’s hand, thumb brushing over her knuckles as she ate soup. Russ was gesturing like mad as he spoke. Everything would be perfect, if Harry wasn’t there. 

He kept to his end of the table, head down and trying to eat fast so he could go back to his room until it was time to go. Hopefully Lily wouldn’t notice. She still stared at him almost constantly. Why was a mystery to him, and he almost didn’t want to figure her out. 

He retreated to his bedroom then stepped into the bathroom to brush his teeth again. When he came out, James was there waiting for him.

Harry froze. James was between him and the door. In the basement he doubted Lily or Russ would be able to hear him if he screamed. He tried to calm himself down. James hadn’t hit him yet. 

“I don’t have to send you to Hogwarts or even let you leave,” James said, almost snarled. “I could say you’re being homeschooled or that you’re still recovering from the dark wizards that had you. Going to Hogwarts is a _privilege_ and entirely reliant on what I want. Listen. I’m not going to repeat myself. You won’t tell them about what happened before I _rescued_ you. You’ll only use your wand for school work. If I hear you turned your wand on your brother—on _anyone_ I’ll have you home and disinherited faster than a golden snitch.

“You are to get into either Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, and stay away from Russ. Don’t talk to any Slytherins,” he nearly spit out the word, “ especially not the little Death Eaters. On the weekends you’re to stay in your dorm room and be quiet.” Behind Harry he could hear Griever hiss. “You won’t draw attention to yourself or try to talk to Russ. You’ll vow this on your magic—” James cut himself off when Lily opened the bedroom door without knocking. 

James’ scowl easily turned into a loving smile. 

“Almost ready?” Lily asked, sounding breathless.

“Yeah, I just need to get Griever in his carrier,” Harry said, not letting his fear show. Lily came into the room proper, her wand in a loose grip. She tapped it on the chest at the foot of his bed, shrinking it down and putting it into her coat. 

Harry tempted Griever into his wicker carrier with treats then put his wand in his pocket. Lily turned to leave and Harry was quick to follow her—Only for James to grab his arm at the foot of the stairs. 

“Don’t make me regret giving you to Dursleys when I could have just killed you,” he hissed into Harry’s ear. 

He nodded, new emotions overtaking him. The anger was familiar, but this… this  _ vengeance  _ was new. He’d do whatever he damn well pleased to. He would be sorted to Slytherin to mock James, shine brighter than Russ, and most of all, he’d make James wish he was dead.

Consequences be damned.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm planning on Harry having friends/associates in all houses.

* * *

On the platform Harry gave a half-hug to Lily. He did it more to placate her than from any sense of familial bond. From there he’d weaved through the steadily growing crowd around Russ. He didn’t know if the Hogwarts Express had assigned compartments. He chose one near the back, trying not to worry. He kept reaching between the lattice work of Griever’s carrier to brush his soft fur. Today the calico was more black than red or white. His fox tail was wrapped around him while he watched everything with deep yellow eyes. 

Harry was tempted to move to the compartment across from his own when he realized he was facing the platform and could see the masses crowding Russ even more, asking him for autographs and taking pictures with him. All that fanfare couldn’t be good for Russ’ head. The other boy did seem to be a bit full of himself, but… what did Harry know about other 11-year-olds?

A few students peeked through the window of his compartment before moving on. Harry tried to tell himself they were just looking for their friends, not deciding he wasn’t worth bothering with. When someone did stop by, it was a platinum blond girl around his age who had a determined look in her grey eyes. She was in flowing slate grey robes with plum colored accents, with a black messengers bag at her side.

“You’re Harry Potter-Black, right?” she asked while closing the compartment door, eyes steadily on him. 

Harry wanted to deny it, but saw no reason to. “Yes.” It came out as more of a question than answer. 

She nodded to herself. “I’m Daphne Greengrass, Heir Greengrass.” Her last name was familiar, the name of a Wizengamot member. “We need to talk.”

That sounded sufficiently foreboding, and the train to Hogwarts hadn’t even left the station yet. Why was his coma-dream so dramatic?

He clutched the wicker carrier tighter. “What is it?”

“This has to stay between you and me,” she said, her eyes pinning him in his seat. “Swear it.”

Harry gulped. His curiosity got the better of him. “I promise.”

Daphne nodded. “My parents are scheming and I want nothing to do with it. Since you’re already a lord and you’re going to inherit another lordship my parents want me to befriend you then marry you when we’re old enough.” 

Harry’s mind stuttered to a halt. “What?” he barely said. 

Daphne rolled her eyes, but it looked to be more at her parents than at his poor speaking abilities. 

“That’s my feeling exactly.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “It gets worse. Some of my family’s vassals go to Hogwarts and are going to be watching me to make sure I do what my parents want me to. I want to make a deal. We don’t have to be friends but we could study in the library together and seem amicable. In return I’ll help you in classes. I’ve already studied for first year and you’ll probably need the help since you grew up with muggles.”

That gave Harry pause. So she knew where he’d been all those years. It made Harry wonder how many people didn’t believe James. 

Harry cleared his throat. “I’ll agree, but only if the terms can be renegotiated later on.” 

“Deal,” she said.

“Deal.”

Daphne’s posture eased up. “Is it alright if I sit in here? I’m trying to avoid one of my annoying associates.”

“Uh, sure.” He felt it was a bit weird that she used the word associates. For some reason that felt like a word only adults with jobs would use.

She nodded and took a seat, pulling a book from her bag. 

Her near silence put him on edge. He focused back on Griever, not wanting to see the loving families outside. 

The hall was getting louder. Not even a minute later a pair of Indian girls with their black hair plaited back, dark eyes shining, and in bright robes opened their compartment door. They looked to be sisters and around his age, but Harry didn’t want to assume anything. 

“Hello,” one girl said in a British accent that had an odd lilt to it. “Can we sit with you guys?”

“Sure.” There was still plenty of room. He just hoped they wouldn’t want to talk to him. He was trying to save his social energy for when he met his housemates. 

He noticed that both of them were carrying a closed basket along with their trunks. Harry flounder on whether he should help them put their trunks on the top rack, but was too late with his decision.

“I’m Padma Patil, and this is my sister Parvati. We’re first years.” She was all grins. 

“Hi, I’m Harry.” He didn’t give his last name, wanting to avoid the mixture of fanfare and questions, if at all possible. 

All three looked to Daphne, but she just turned another page of her book, not even bothering to even glance at them. 

Harry shrugged and gave an awkward laugh. Parvati and Padma exchanged a look.

“Are twins common for wizards and witches?” He already knew two others, not including himself: Ron and Ginny, and Fred and George. The girls in front of him looked like fraternal twins. Or they could be Irish twins, but Harry had a feeling that term was offensive considering he’d only heard Uncle Vernon use it. 

Padma perked up and held a hand to her chest. “Yes! Twins are stronger than most wizards!” She leaned forward conspiratorially, her voice dropping. “But you’re not supposed to talk about it with a muggle born twin if their twin doesn’t have magic. It is said that the magical twin stole the other one's magical core. Very nasty stuff.” 

Parvati elbowed her sister. “He could be a muggle born twin, idiot.” 

Padma’s eyes went wide. “Sorry! I didn’t think—”

“My twin has magic too,” Harry said and tried not to cringe. He hadn’t meant to interrupt her. Hopefully they wouldn’t hate him for being so rude. 

The train whistled one more time before it started moving. 

A thought struck him. Petunia and Lily could be twins. That could be one reason Petunia hated him. Or maybe she was just a horrible person. 

“Is your twin as cute as you?” Padma asked, startling Harry. Parvati elbowed her again. 

Harry didn’t know what to say, his face heating up. 

The Patil twins giggled before whispering to each other. 

Harry glanced at Daphne. She was hiding a smile. 

He tried to relax, and it worked for a solid two minutes, before Ron nearly slammed open the compartment door. 

“Harry! Russ sent me to fetch you! We have a compartment near the front and we’re playing exploding snaps with our new friends.” His face was a bit blotchy with red. Harry’s mind was stuck on the word ‘fetch’, as if Ron was a dog. He slogged his thoughts into the present. He in no way wanted to be around Russ’ new friends, aka fans. 

Harry plastered on a smile. “Sorry, Ron, I was so excited last night I couldn’t fall asleep. I’m going to try for a nap.” He was surprised with how easily the lie came. 

Ron’s face puffed up. “Alright, mate. Russ won’t be happy though.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that so he just shrugged. 

Ron left and Harry thought it might be a good idea to get a few winks of sleep in. Classes began tomorrow and he wasn’t sure how difficult they would be.

He pulled off his glasses and tucked his arm between his head and window, trying to lessen the train’s jolting. Griever started to purr and it helped Harry relax enough to sleep.

*

_ “Eat my sheddings!”  _ a male said angrily, tugging Harry out of slumber. He tried to fall back asleep.  _ “Look at my teeth! You think I have to put up with your BS!?” _

A strange, raspy laugh sounded out.  _ “Can’t put up with a little teasing, can you Nisol? Pathetic! If mother knew—” _

_ “Enough sibling squabbling,” _ Harry mumbled while opening his eyes. He unhooked his glasses from his shirt. 

_ “A speaker!”  _ one of the brothers said as Harry could see again—two snakes appearing on the Patil sisters’ laps. 

_ “I was trying to sleep,” _ he griped. The two snakes had raised heads and necks. One was orange with brown splotches while the other was yellow with white blotches.  _ “It was rude of you to argue so loudly.” _ Harry wasn’t sure where his firm attitude was coming from. He’d credit his drowsiness for now. 

_ “Apologies, speaker!”  _ the yellow one said while bobbing its head in what almost looked like a bow. From his voice he identified him as Nisol. 

The other bowed lower.  _ “Yes, apologies! Apologies!” _

Harry sighed.  _ “It’s fine.”  _ They were probably close to Hogwarts if his internal clock could be trusted. Oh, and the sun was setting. That was a better clue.

He finally noticed that Padma and Parvati were still in their seats. Padma’s mouth was slightly agape while Parvati was blinking like mad.

“Were you talking to those snakes?” Daphne asked. She looked guarded, but there was a gleam of interest in her eyes. 

“I guess I was pretty rude to them.” Harry felt his face heat up. 

“You’re a Parselmouth,” Daphne stated. 

“A what?”

“Oh Merlin, what did my little Topaz say?!” Padma asked with a wide grin. Her eyes seemed to sparkle. Harry wondered if that was a magic thing, or just something all girls could do. 

“Who?” Harry asked. Padma’s smile faltered, before he caught up with what she was saying. He glanced at the yellow snake then back at her. “His name is Nisol.” Padma paused, making Harry feel distinctly awkward. Did they not understand the snakes? Was he really even a freak by wizarding standards? He gulped before speaking again. “Uhm, that’s what his brother called him.”

That opened the floodgate for the twins. They asked him all sorts of questions to relay to their snakes, Nisol and Poxser: their actual names, preferred food, sand they liked best, and so much more. 

Harry almost felt that he was making his first friends, with Padma and Parvati as well as the snakes. He snuffed out that thought though. The Patils were only interested in him because he was a Parselmouth. 

“We should change soon,” Daphne said, cutting through their chatter, “but first I want you two to swear not to tell anyone else Harry is a Parselmouth.” She gave them an icy look. Padma shrunk back, Parvati sat a bit straighter. 

“Who says you get to make the rules?” Parvati asked, her chin held high in defiance. 

Daphne didn’t roll her eyes, but it was a close thing. “Did you forget the Dark Lord was a Parselmouth? Even before him speaking Parseltongue was seen as dark. He just made it worse. If it gets out that Harry can speak to snakes he might get bullied.”

Harry was caught off guard by that, of course there was another reason for people to bully him—And if James found out… Well, Harry didn’t want to think about that. 

“That’s not fair,” Parvati continued. “Just because Harry can talk to snakes… In India there are plenty of Parselmouths and no one thinks they’re evil.” 

“I didn’t know we were in India,” Daphne mocked. 

Parvati’s cheeks darkened. 

“I don’t want to get bullied.” Bullied like he had been his whole life. 

Parvati looked at him and Padma softly elbowed her in her side. 

“We won’t tell anyone,” Padma said. “But can we hang out sometimes? I want to talk to Poxer more.” She smiled. “He has  _ opinions. _ ” Padma laughed and it diffused the tension.

“Good.” Daphne gave a firm nod. “Harry, go outside so we can change.” 

Bossy, bossy, but Harry did what she said. He was too tired to put up an argument—and they hadn’t even reached Hogwarts yet. 

He stepped out while the girls changed. He saw that other students were milling about, going to different compartments, sometimes just standing in the doorway as they talked. It must be nice to have so many friends. 

Harry switched places with the girls to slip on his own uniform. He was still surprised at how different they felt compared to the oversized rags he used to have to wear. No more cutting Dudley’s old belts so they didn’t wrap around him twice. No watching that brat rip and rub the clothes in the dirt before giving them to Harry. No more having Aunt Petunia ordering him to take off his shirt, tearing it up, then telling him to use them as rags to clean with. 

Harry could have never imagined having outfits of his own when he’d been under the Dursleys’ watch. And they were so soft! They didn’t make him look look he was begging for money and spending his nights in dumpsters~ 

But at the end of the day, there was a sourness to it. He should have never had to put up with the Dursleys’ abuse. He had  _ living  _ parents! Even a brother! Russ who wasted food and never felt the pain of starvation. Russ who lived in a damn manor while Harry had to curl up in a cupboard every night. Russ who had friends while anyone Harry tried to speak to was either warned off by Petunia or Dudley beat them up to keep them away. 

He’d complain about it not being fair, but a pessimistic part of him noted that ‘fair’ wasn’t something that ever applied to him. 

Still, Harry had plans. 

The train pulled into a smooth stop, jolting Harry out of his thoughts.

He left Griever and his things on the train, despite it making him highly uncomfortable. 

They were ushered to a large, gruff looking man who seemed to disregard half the letters in the sentences he was saying. 

Harry ended up in a boat with the Patils and Daphne, which was a relief all things considered. 

When Hogwarts came into view, it both amazed Harry and made his shoulders feel heavy. It was just another glimpse of a world he should have been living in all along. 

On solid ground Russ found him, Ron and a group of fans following behind. Russ looped his arm over Harry’s shoulders. “This is it, Harry! Our legend as the greatest brothers in history begins tonight! We’re going to win the House Cup for Gryffindor each year—I can’t wait to be on the Quidditch team! You can cheer me on with da and mum!”

Thankfully Harry was saved from his rant by entering the castle. A severe looking witch in green robes introduced herself as Deputy Headmistress McGonagall. Russ whispered to Harry how she was going to be their head of house. Excitement at proving him wrong mixed with the dread of his brother turning against him when he was sorted into Slytherin. 

McGonagall led them into a large hall. There were four long tables parallel to each other with students sitting at them. It took Harry a beat to notice the colors on their uniforms designated which table they sat at. 

At the front of the hall was another table, looking over the rest of the tables. Staff was sitting at it, from a scowling man with black, shoulder-length hair to an elderly man in painfully bright robes. 

A shabby looking cliche of a wizarding hat was placed on a stool—Then sang about the different houses. It was a neat trick—No, Harry reminded himself: it was a neat use of magic. 

McGonagall started calling students up in alphabetical order. A few went by before the first student was sorted into Gryffindor. Russ elbowed him, a blinding smile in place. Harry humored him with a smile of his own. 

Daphne was sorted into Slytherin, which Harry thought was fortunate considering their deal. 

Lady Longbottom’s grandson, Neville, went to Slytherin. He looked 100% uncomfortable. 

Padma Patil went to Ravenclaw, while Parvati was sorted into Gryffindor. They looked sad to be separated, but were embraced by their respective houses. 

Then it was their turn.

“Charlus Potter,” McGonagall said firmly. He walked forward with his shoulders back and head held high. To Harry, it felt like an act—Doubtlessly Russ was confident. It just felt like it was all choreographed since everyone knew their ‘savior’ was going to be sorted into Gryffindor.

And just as the hat brushed his hair it shouted out, “Gryffindor!” 

The hall erupted in cheers—Mostly from the Gryffindor table. Many Gryff students were banging their hands on the table. McGonagall gave them a withering glare that sapped out all their fire. 

“Hadrian Potter!” 

Now there were whispers, confusion from those that didn’t read newspapers, and explanations from the ones that did. 

He couldn’t read McGonagall, but he felt like she was wary. 

She crowned him with the Sorting Hat and a voice intruded on his thoughts. 

_ “Ah, the lost Potter! Very interesting. You haven’t the need for a crusade for justice—Well, beyond your own version of justice—nor Gryffindor’s attention seeking. A lion you are not. Oh, and Hufflepuff doesn’t suit you in the least! No, your loyalty is only to yourself, and far too difficult to be earned by anyone else. Not a lick of ambition in you beyond revenge and freedom, but Slytherin could change that. It has fanned more than one spark into a fire of greatness. You have a keen mind, to be certain. You could use your brains to make quite the biting remarks, if you chose to. Your silence would not be looked down upon by your fellow Ravens. I think it will suit you best—” _

_ “It has to be Slytherin,” _ Harry interrupted mentally. 

_ “Ah, yes, I see your need for rebellion, not that there’s anything wrong with being in Slytherin! You have the strength to stand against all those that would disparage you for it!” _ Unwillingly Harry looked at Russ who was practically vibrating with excitement. He refrained from smirking at him. “Better be Slytherin!” 

Russ’ expression fell, a twist of shock and disgust. 

*

The sorting continued as Harry wondered what kind of food would be served. His regiment of nutrition potions had ended yesterday, but Mediwitch Magdalen said that his stomach was still adjusting its size to let him eat a healthy amount, considering at the Dursleys the most he ever ate in a day was two slices of bread together that Petunia called a sandwich. Harry was looking forward to the first time his stomach pooched out from eating so much. 

Green and silver fireworks went off, startling him and many others, especially considering it was coming from the Gryffindor table. 

Fred and George were up cheering on Ginny. Harry gave them a confused look before turning to Ginny, who was heading straight his way—Heading to Slytherin. 

Then Ron ran up and grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?!” Ron shouted, sounding through the already loud hall. “You’re supposed to be in Gryffindor!” Ginny didn’t respond, trying to yank her arm free. More than one older Slytherin stood to help her.

“Enough,” a deep voice cut through it all, settling down nearly all the students. It was the professor with shoulder length black hair. “I won’t have one of my students manhandled. I’d take house points, but you haven’t been sorted. A week of detention will suffice.” 

Ron gawped at him, face matching his red hair. “That’s not fair—”

“Mr. Weasley, I advise you to sit to be sorted,” McGonagall said sternly. 

As Ron stomped over to the stool, Ginny took the open spot beside Harry, Neville across from her. She smiled and there was something mischievous there. It had Harry grinning.

From what little facial expression Harry could gather from the Sorting Hat, it looked annoyed that its decision was being questioned. 

Ron was, unsurprisingly, put in Gryffindor. He immediately went to Russ’ side and they whispered to each other, probably about him and Ginny.

Food was served up and Harry felt like he was in heaven. He’d never seen so much food before, not even in his wildest dreams—And for some reason he felt his eyes tearing up. He tried to get his emotions in check. Thankfully he was distracted as introductions were made. 

Draco Malfoy looked like a mini-version of his mother, but with rounded cheeks and short hair. He said that his mother told him that they were to be friends. Harry didn't know much about making friends, but had the feeling it wasn’t supposed to be like that. 

Vincent Crabb and Gregory “Greg” Goyle were flanking him, both boys bigger than the other first-years. Goyle was immersed in playing with his toad while Crabb gave him a firm nod. His brow was furrowed and he seemed to be thinking very hard. 

Blaise Zabini had the prettiest eyelashes Harry had ever seen before. He was Black with short hair. Harry couldn’t quite define it, but something about the way he held himself was distant and very cool. Harry would bet he was going to be very popular, he just hoped he wouldn’t be a bully.

Pansy Parkinson had a short haircut that was perfectly combed and straight to the point of it almost looking like a deadly weapon. Her nose was slightly upturned, bordering between being cute and piggish. She eyed Harry like he was a science experiment, but followed Draco’s lead in being polite. 

Theodore Nott was lanky and was taller than the rest of them. His hay colored hair was a bit disheveled, which matched his skewed tie. His cornflower blue eyes were bright with excitement. Thankfully it was directed at everything, not just Harry.

Millicent “Millie” Bulstrode was pudgy and didn’t even look up from her plate when she gave her name. The others seemed to ignore her. 

Tracey Davis had long hair that faded from brown to blond. She was nervously picking at her food, but giving fleeting smiles. 

Daphne made her and Harry sound closer than they were before she started prodding at Ginny. Apparently there hadn’t been a Weasley in Slytherin—ever. Not even one that married into the family. 

Ginny took her pointed questions easily, making it clear she wasn’t going to take any flak. He felt a solidarity with her, both being from Gryffindor families, but he didn’t know if she felt the same. 

Neville’s face was blotchy red. He mumbled his greeting. He learned that his parents had been in Gryffindor, but he’d chosen Slytherin over Gryffindor when the hat asked which he preferred. That seemed to garner him some points. 

Harry’s introduction was short. When Tracey asked about Russ, he gave her Petunia brand derisive look. It shut her down and hopefully would be a deterrent for anyone else who wanted to talk about Russ with him.

After a stunning dessert that made Harry tear up again, they were led through winding passages to their dorm in the dungeon. 

The common room was almost ethereal, a turning galaxy above them, nothing like the sky that was charmed to the ceiling of the great hall. This one had misty fuchsia that danced with dark blues and shining stars. The windows showed dark swirls of green with flitting dashes of silver going by. The fireplace crackled with green flames. Over the mantle was a painting of a vibrant snake biting the throat of a lion. The furniture blended well with the decor, showing more snake motifs. There were four hallways leading away from the common room. 

Once the majority of the older students flitted off the prefect gave the first-years the rules, talked about unity, not getting in trouble/caught, and how to comport oneselves. Harry didn’t really care about all that, but listened regardless. 

Then their Head of House swept in with billowing black robes and a sneer in place. He looked over each first-year in turn, measuring them up and finding them lacking. It was nothing Harry wasn’t used to. He could tell it got to some of the other students though. 

“Do not mistake your placement here as meaning you are clever or ambitious,” Snape started, his deep voice feeling like it was coming from all around them. “There are three main reasons children are sorted into Slytherin: they fit Slytherin’s ideals, they value those ideals above all else, or through family obligation. I assure you that most of you fall in the latter category.” He gave another glare. “Regardless, you shall  _ be  _ clever. Clever in academics, socially, and in conduct. Do not disappoint me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been dying to share Snape's speech with you all~~ He's one of my faves.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update since I went on a stress induced writing binge!
> 
> I think I've made this is a more realistic first night, but maybe it's just a US perspective?

* * *

Once Professor Snape disappeared a prefect clapped her hands, drawing their attention. 

“Don’t let him intimidate you too much. You follow our rules and do well in classes and he won’t bother you.” She smiled at them, hands on her hips. “I’m Gemma Farley. I’ve been designated your overseer. I hope you’re not too tired. We have a lot to do before classes start tomorrow.”

She gestured to the few older students who were still in the common rooms. They introduced themselves as prefects. They spoke about which classes they were best at and who to see when they needed help before handing the floor back to Gemma. 

“We’re going to start with a few icebreakers,” she said. With a wave of her wand a beach ball appeared. 

Draco groaned. He wasn’t the only one. 

Harry didn’t know what an icebreaker was, but felt wary. He sent Daphne a confused look and she shrugged. He glanced Ginny’s way. She looked loads more comfortable and confident than he did. 

“Form a loose circle,” Gemma called out. She twirled the beach ball in her hand. Daphne thankfully stood beside him. “This is a get-to-know you game. There’s questions on the ball. You’ll toss it to each other. When you catch it you have to answer the question under your left thumb.” She held up one of her hands. “Remember, you can tell which hand is your left by seeing which one forms a capitalized L with your thumb and pointer.” She demonstrated and Harry was grateful for that. He’d definitely hadn’t known his left from right before that—and probably would forget the trick by tomorrow. “Heads up, Malfoy.” 

Gemma tossed the ball to Draco and Harry wondered why she knew his name specifically. 

Draco barely caught it, but somehow made it look like that was what he’d meant to do. Slytherins were definitely good at putting on a show.

Draco looked under his thumb. “If you were stuck on a deserted island and couldn’t have a wand, what one thing would you take?” he read out. His nose wrinkled. “A boat, obviously.” 

“You know how to steer a boat?” Blaise asked dryly.

“No, but it can’t be that hard.” Before Blaise could rejoin, Draco tossed the ball to him. He didn’t look very impressed.

“If you could be any animal, what would you be?” Blaise shrugged. “A wizard.” 

Harry had the feeling that wasn’t really in the spirit of the game, but didn’t get to contemplate it since the ball was thrown his way. He’d never caught a ball a single time in his life. Thankfully, some instinct took over. 

“What’s your favorite food?” The question stumped Harry a good 10 seconds. He decided to answer honestly. The Slytherins might like to put on an orchestrated show, but Harry wasn’t going to let James’ lies be perpetuated. “I don’t know. My abusive muggle relatives starved me. I only got bread occasionally and whatever I could secretly grow behind the shed.” He needed to lighten the atmosphere. “I’d like to try pizza, though. It smells delicious.” 

There was a long, awkward pause. Thankfully Blaise broke it. “It has to be real,  _ Italian _ pizza. Any other kind is not worth the trouble.” He made a dismissive hand gesture and that was that. 

*

As the game progressed Harry learned that Pansy, Draco, and Daphne knew each other. When Pansy was asked what she would feed to a dragon, she had them laughing by naming their mutual etiquette instructor. 

Harry felt like he was behind the curve, and even more grateful for Daphne’s help. He wasn’t planning on asking for dance lessons though,  _ ever. _

The group answered about things he’d never heard about, but were common to them: types of brooms, magical creatures, and restaurants that were “to die for”. 

It did help though. 

The next game was a bit silly. They held each others hands while bunched together, except for two people, creating a large knot. They then had to undo that knot, looping and stepping over each other. There were arguments, but Gemma was quick to break those up. Draco wanted to take charge, but Blaise was much better at it. Daphne seemed to enjoy their bickering and Ginny egged them all on. 

Vincent and Greg listened to Draco completely. Theo swung the arms of the ones he was connected to, getting a sneer from Pansy, but a smile from Harry. 

The close quarters made Harry very uncomfortable. His only physical contact before had been when he was being beaten. He found it strange that Tracey’s hands were cold while Theo’s were warm and slightly sweaty. Very strange. 

He also learned that Neville had no balance and nearly toppled them all. He looked embarrassed and garnered more than one glare. He met those with his chin held high, but cheeks rosey. 

After getting untangled Gemma handed out a small piece of parchment. “These are the standard first week of school questions and answers. You won’t be granted anything like these again. They don’t leave the dorms, and you don’t tell anyone about them. Everyone will be looking down on Slytherin. Don’t give them a chance to call us cheaters.” She handed them out and it was a lot longer than Harry expected. It was doable though. “Boys on the left, girls on the right. Your pets and trunks have already been delivered. Be here at 7:15. Another prefect will lead you back to the feasting hall, then between classes for the first three days.” She gave them a grin. “Try to get some sleep.”

The group split. They gave each other awkward goodbyes, Draco sticking his tongue out at Pansey. She scoffed and rolled her eyes in return. 

They headed up to their dorm room, which was marked as first-year’s. Harry was surprised to see that it was one large bedroom. At the foot of each bed was a trunk. Desks between the beds, seconding as nightstands too. Open green with darker green snakes danced on the privacy curtains around the beds. The material looked thick and hopefully would keep out noise too.

And there was Griever on his trunk, still in his wicker carrier. He went to him.

Harry noticed that Draco, Greg, and Neville had slightly different desk hutches. It looked like the back of them had terrariums, but they looked too shallow against the wall—Right, magic. 

“You have a toad too?” Neville asked while going over to Greg’s desk. “What kind?” Greg smiled, retrieving his dark blue, nearly black toad. Harry listened with half an ear, letting Griever out. 

Draco made a ridiculing sound. Harry was getting the feeling it to be one of the main ways Draco spoke. “I have a vegetable lamb. Much more intelligent, and not,” his upper lip curled, “ _ slimey.” _

He opened his terrarium. An off white something trotted to his open hand. “See.” He held it up, a miniature lamb, knubby legs green and brown. 

“A cauliflower variant?” Blaise asked rhetorically. “How pedestrian.” True to his word the vegetable lamb looked like a small, oblong head of cauliflower.

“I’ll have you know that Bastion comes from the  _ best _ breeder in France.” The pair started needling at each other, Blaise undoubtedly better at it than Draco. 

It got worse when Vincent and Greg stood behind Draco menacingly. 

Harry sunk his fingers into Griever’s fur, hoping this wouldn’t be a nightly occurrence. 

Harry looked to be the only one with a cat. Theo came over to him, eyes on Harry’s unique fox/kneazle mix.

“What’s his name?” Theo asked. His hands seemed to be itching to pet Griever.

“He’s Griever. He’s still warming up to me. Do you have a pet?” Harry paused a beat. “You can pet him if you want.”

Theo reached out, letting Griever smell his hand first.

“My family has some hunting crups.” He mimed drawing an arrow. “I have great aim with a bow and arrow.” He smiled again while petting Griever. “Hopefully that translates to spell aim.” He practically beamed when Griver leaned into his hand. “It’s too bad dogs aren’t allowed at Hogwarts, not that I’d ever be able to choose just one.” 

Harry would have to look up what exactly crups looked like. Were they a magical breed? Or just one he’d never heard of in the muggle world. 

Griever gracefully hopped off the bed, heading for the en suite bathroom, his fox tail swinging leisurely. 

Harry followed him. The tiles of the bathroom were green with silver grout—A theme he was getting used to. There were three bathroom stalls (one of which Griever went into, the door swinging close behind him). Three urinals, four shower stalls, and three sinks with oversized mirrors over them. 

Harry used the facilities before going to his trunk. 

Draco was fuming while Blaise had a pleased look on his face.

He hesitated to change in front of everyone. He had scars.

No, he wouldn’t let the Dursleys control his actions. 

Thankfully no one mentioned anything. 

When he was ready to tuck in, Griever was waiting on his bed for him. Harry closed his bed curtains and hoped tomorrow wouldn’t be too bad.

*

Harry seemed to be the only one awake, despite his group being on their feet. The prefect guiding them back to the feasting hall had a small grin in place.

The four student tables nor the professor’s table had many occupants. Most looked to be first-years like him. Thankfully Russ and Ron weren’t around to glare at them, or worse: attack them. He was still not sure what he thought. He knew Russ didn’t like Slytherins, but… he could only hope. He wasn’t sure if he wanted a relationship with his brother. 

There was too much he didn’t know about Russ, beyond loving Quidditch and the obvious fame that followed him around. And the hate for Slytherins that James had poisoned him with all his life. Harry decided… it wasn’t worth it. He hadn’t had a brother growing up and he didn’t need one now. 

It didn’t help that Russ lived in luxury where Harry had been stuffed in a cupboard for most of life. Russ never had a hand raised against him while the Dursleys nearly beat Harry to death. Russ didn’t know what suffering was. And there was no way Harry was going to tell him,  _ teach _ him what it was. 

Hogwarts was a chance at something new. He refused to let familial blood dictate his actions. 

*

Draco was sneering, not at anyone in particular, just with twisted lips and a haughty look on his face. 

Harry continued eating his porridge, watching lazily. 

“— fall in line. As a Malfoy I can’t let your childishness make others think poorly of me. I’m a leader and—” 

Harry and Blaise exchanged a look. Ginny was staring at her English breakfast, effortlessly ignoring Draco in favor of food. Pansy was nodding along with Draco as she sat beside him. Greg and Vincent were focused on Draco, nodding when he not so subtly looked to them for reassurance. Daphne ignored him. Theo was constructing a bagel and lox, snorting under his breath every once and awhile. Tracey and Neville were the only ones who looked cowed by Draco. 

Harry had about enough of Draco prattling. 

“Oh shove it, Draco. I won’t have some  _ heir, _ one from a lower house than mine, running their mouth this early in the morning.” Harry gave him the once over with a scathing look of finding him lacking. He’d seen it almost daily on Petunia and if he pulled it off half as well as she did then it was devastating. 

Draco gaped at him a moment before his hackles raised. “See here, Potter! Your family is a bunch of blood traitors and not worth the dirt under my boot! You best remember that the Malfoys—” 

“I wasn’t referring to being the Potter heir.” Harry leaned closer and more than one other Slytherin was watching. “I’m a  _ lord, _ you little snot. Better yet, I’m Lord  _ Black.  _ Your mother might be a Malfoy now, but she still falls under my purview. I could annul your parents’ marriage like that,” he snapped his fingers, “and you’d be just another bastard with no chance of inheriting the Malfoy lordship.” 

Malfoy turned whiter than paper, thankfully buying what Harry said. He’d read about it happening before, but wasn’t sure if he could actually do it in these modern times—not that he was going to tell Draco that.

Greg and Vincent looked like they were about to jump across the table and pummel them, but then Draco stumbled to his feet. They followed him out. 

Harry looked on at his fellow Slytherin first-years. Pansy was gaping at him like a fish. Her mouth snapped shut and a calculating look shined in her brown eyes. Blaise was bodily laughing, but didn’t let a sound out. Tracey was looking at him like he hung the stars and the moon. Ginny was still engrossed in her food. Theo gave him a nod of approval. Neville had frozen mid-bite and the sausage on his fork had fallen into his lap. Daphne was grinning devilishly. 

It felt good to finally be the one with the upper-hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a Twitter account where I just post random thoughts, dream diary, and Harry Potter fanfiction teasers/ideas. It's @SilverOnTheMoon if you're interested.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry learned what Howlers were when an owl nearly dive-bombed him with a red letter. Before it could properly release it one of the prefects set it ablaze. That answered the question on why the prefects were standing around the table at even intervals. 

At least he wasn’t the only one who got one. Ginny’s face had been about as red as the envelope when she saw it coming her way. Just like his, it burned before reaching her. The hint of solidarity he had with her grew. 

On the other side of the room Russ received his own Howler, but it was congratulations from James—Something Harry highly doubted was in his own letter. 

Neville received a letter and was nearly gnawing his lip bloody. Ginny elbowed him, breaking Neville out of his thoughts.

Class schedules were handed out. Harry was not surprised to see study time on it. It even had the schedule for Saturday. It looked like Slytherins were big on studying, which gave Harry mixed feelings. After purposefully lowering his grades for nearly five years he wasn’t sure how well he’d readjust. He’d done some reading at the Potter Mansion, but still felt under-prepared. 

Starting on the second week, Friday nights there was a block marked ‘Group Project’. It wasn’t described beyond that. 

Their first class was potions. Harry had been nervous on the train ride to Hogwarts, but after the tutoring session last night he felt a lot more secure. 

Unfortunately, they shared it with Russ and Ron. Fortunately, the prefect that had led them to class was standing with them. 

“Ginny, we need to talk,” Ron said to her, his teeth nearly grinding together. 

Ginny gave a firm stomp of her right foot. “Why _Ronald?_ So you can grab me again? So you can shout at me? I saw that mum and dad sent you a letter. Let me see it.” She stepped boldly towards him, despite being a good five centimeters shorter than him. 

Ron held his messenger bag to his side. “You’re supposed to be in Gryffindor! Not be a slimy snake!” Ron’s eyes flickered over to Harry. “You did this, you prat! I’ll find out whatever you did to my sister!”

Harry didn’t bother to defend himself, instead looking at Russ. He had a mix of indignation and suspicion on his face.

“Give me the bloody letter.” Where Ron raised his voice, Ginny’s got quieter— _deadlier._

The Slytherin prefect moved to stand behind Ginny, wand drawn and smirk in place. “You heard her.” 

Ron’s eyes went wide, before puffing his chest up. “Shove off, you snake!”

“This _snake_ is a lot more powerful than you. One word from me to Professor Snape and you’ll have detention for a month.” 

“But that’s not _fair!”_ Ron whined. 

Ginny was fast to reinsert herself. “Oh, like it was fair that I never got to ride a broom while you all got to play? Or how mum acted like we were attached by the hip while you and Russ had the run of the place? Or do you mean how I had all the chores while you wouldn’t even make your bed?” Her hands went to her boney hips. “So don’t you talk about _fair_ to me.” She held her hand out again. 

After glancing at the prefect, Ron reluctantly handed Ginny the letter.

“I’m telling mum!” Ron nearly shouted while crossing his arms over his chest.

“5 points from Gryffindor for shouting in the corridor,” Professor Snape said, having just opened the door. 

Ron looked like he was about to argue, but a glare from Snape snuffed that out. 

*

Harry wasn’t sure if Snape was purposefully trying to drive a wedge between Harry and Russ, or if he wanted to spice up his classroom up with drama. 

He referred to Russ as Mr. Potter the lesser, and Harry as Mr. Potter the greater. He asked Russ questions that Russ didn’t know one of the answers to, before turning the other questions over to Harry—All of which had been on the study guide the Slytherin prefects had given them. 

Russ looked like he was close to exploding as he lost points while Harry racked them up. It wasn’t the least bit fair, but it was nice not to get the short end of the stick for once. 

It also made him wonder how much of Slytherin hate was exacerbated by Professor Snape. 

After potions they made their way to the greenhouses. They had Herbology with Ravenclaw. Harry waved at Padma, but she looked focused on the other girls in her house. 

The scent of dirt was bitter-sweet. Harry had spent a good portion of his life outside, had gotten blistering sunburns as he worked the land, but it had also been a chance for solitude. 

Draco kept pouting all through Herbology, but by the time lunch came around he looked like he was scheming. 

On the other side of the great hall, Ron shot glares at them. Russ looked put out. It contrasted so much with his usual expression that it caught Harry off guard. 

Harry was excited to get to use his wand in charms. Sadly, Professor Flitwick only lectured. It was interesting to learn about how much easier his life could be once he learned some basic charms—how much easier all that backbreaking work he’d been forced to do could have been done with a few wand movements and words. 

Things became… odd in Transfiguration. McGonagall was tense, her lips thin and colorless. At first Harry thought it was because she was the head of Gryffindor, that house rivalries were driving them, but she didn’t seem petty like Snape. She warned them about how dangerous transfiguration was, that they’d be kicked out for any tomfoolery, and that picturing what they wanted to change was key. 

The tension eased when she moved from the introduction to a brief overview of what they’d be focusing on during the first semester. 

Maybe it was just another Slytherin thing.

*

By the end of the school day and in the safety of the Slytherin common room, Draco had recovered. “If you threaten my family again I’ll kill you,” Draco hissed under his breath. 

Harry waited a moment, giving him an unimpressed look. He shrugged. “Fine by me. I’ll just put in my will to annul your parents’ marriage.” He grinned. “When it comes to you, Draco, I’ll always get the last laugh.”

Draco was struck mute. Pansy went over to him, whispering reassurances yet giving Harry a wink at the same time. 

“Lay off Draco,” Vincent said while standing at an impressive height, drawing the attention of older students. 

From the corner of his eye he saw Daphne shift uneasily. The others in his form were silent, doubly so when Greg joined Vincent’s side. 

Harry got up, his lips twisting into something wicked. Draco’s pleased look dropped. 

“I’ll let you on to a little secret of mine.” Harry raised his voice, “I’ll let you all know a secret; I will burn this bloody place to the ground before letting anyone push me into the dirt again.” He took a step closer to Vincent. “Don’t forget we sleep in the same room. I’ll have no problem digging my damn fingers into your guts until I reach your spine and yank it out. And if you think magic will save you, then you best remember that it wasn’t only my brother dearest who survived Voldemort.” He took another step forward, a head shorter than Vincent yet somehow looming over him. “I survived the worst sort of muggles, starvation, and beatings. Compared to that, you’re _nothing,”_ he grinned and patted Vincent on the shoulder, making him flinch, “but I’d much rather we all be mates.” He looked to Malfoy who was pale. He walked past Vincent and Greg to get to him. “So what will it be, Draco? Are we mates?” 

He held out his hand and Draco took it, giving it a clammy handshake. “Yeah, Harry, we’re mates.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter, but I think it helps set the tone. Harry won't always be so abrasive though.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I think I accidentally skipped Tuesday. lol Oh well!

* * *

After Harry’s speech, the first-year’s bonding game was awkward at best. Daphne, with the help of Pansy, had smoothed things over during the tutoring session. It was obvious that they’d worked together many times before. 

Draco looked uncomfortable, so Harry threw him an easy compliment. It put Draco off balance even more. Blaise snickered.

The only real downside was that Neville couldn’t even look at him. Harry still remembered Russ and Ron bullied the other boy. 

Daphne pulled him aside when tutoring wrapped up. “That was a lot of big talk. You might have gotten Draco to back down for now, but he’s nothing if not attached to his sense of superiority. He will try to strike you down.”

“I know.” Nothing was ever simple. 

“He’s going to tell Lord Malfoy about this. He’s not someone you want as an enemy.” That gave Harry pause. 

“Draco’s mum likes me. Maybe I should write to her.” It’s not like he could turn her against Draco, but it was something at least. “He did say that she wanted us to be friends, according to Draco.” 

“That might work.” Daphne ran her fingers through her platinum blond hair. It was the same shade as Draco’s. “I’ll help.” 

They took seats near one of the dark windows to the lake. Harry wasn’t pleased with how much it made his eyes squint. The whole common room was poorly lit save near the fireplace, which seemed to be reserved for the older students. He’d spent too much of his life squinting, using the faint light coming from under the door of his cupboard in hopes of reading. He’d have to change the common room eventually. 

That thought nearly made him grin. He was getting big-headed—And there was a danger in that. 

Daphne and Harry started the letter with his wonder at Hogwarts. Something light to ease her into the letter. He then asked for advice on the Wizengamot to show her that he valued her opinion. From there he praised Draco’s leadership abilities with a carefully worded statement that made it clear he was no follower and that he’d prefer for Draco to see him as an equal (which strictly wasn’t true, not that he wrote as much). He mentioned how things had gotten off poorly with them and asked her advice on how to fix it. 

It took about three drafts (with Daphne commenting on his poor handwriting more than once) for them to both be happy with it. After her urging he also wrote another letter to request Gringotts send him the Black family seal to mark his letters with. 

He hurried off to the owlery before curfew then came back to his dorm room. Draco’s privacy curtains were closed despite it not even being 9 o’clock yet. 

*

Word seemed to get around by breakfast the next day, if the whispers were to go by. Many of the older Slytherins seemed entertained while others sneered at him. Hufflepuffs looked wary while the Ravenclaws seemed indifferent. Padma gave him a questioning look that he could only answer with a shrug. Parvati looked almost scared of him. Ron kept whispering to Russ, whose brow was furrowed. They met eyes once, but only for an unreadable second. 

At breakfast Harry received another Howler and it was burned before it could reach him. 

Draco kept to himself and thankfully didn’t receive an owl. Hopefully the Malfoys would get his side of the story first. It probably wouldn’t do much, but it was something. 

When they started following the prefect to their first class, Ginny went in step with him. “Malfoy was mean to Neville yesterday,” she said under her breath, nearly whispering. 

Harry wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond to that or even why she was telling him that. 

Ginny continued, “Neville’s my friend, but doesn’t know how to handle confrontation. I can protect him, but not inside his dorm room.” 

“You want me to look out for him.” Harry puzzled out. It was almost funny. He’d been bullied his whole life and now someone thought he was capable of protection. Harry decided to follow Snape’s advice and be clever. “Depends what I get out of it.” 

Ginny didn’t miss a beat. “James treats you like shite, doesn’t he?” she asked. Harry bristled up. “I’m not threatening you,” Ginny clarified before looking to see if anyone was watching. Only Daphne was, and she was unreadable. “I can write my mum and dad saying how you’re being so nice and helping keep the ‘bad’ Slytherins away from me and Neville. I know my mum, she’ll tell James.”

After a moment Harry said, “Slytherin house looks good on you.” For some reason that made Ginny blush. “You have yourself a deal.” Although Draco might target Neville if he saw that Harry tried to protect him. 

When they got to History of Magic Daphne got between them to sit by Harry. The professor was a ghost and called out attendance for a class other than their own, not that he seemed to notice.

*

Slytherin’s fourth block was their only shared class of the day, Herbology with Ravenclaw. The other group was already outside of the greenhouse by the time Slytherin got there. Padma was surrounded by other students. When she spotted Harry she marched directly to him. 

The Slytherin prefect glared at her, but Padma was undeterred. Harry paused, figuring she’d want to talk without prying ears. 

“There’s a dozen rumors going around about you doing something last night. What’s the truth?” Padma asked without even saying hello first. 

“I pulled a sword on another student,” he deadpanned. Padma’s eyes went wide.

“Where’d you get a sword?” 

“Don’t you know that Slytherin’s dorm is filled with weapons and torture devices?” She took a step back from him. “Padma,” Harry sighed, “I’m joking. I just got into an argument. It wasn’t that big of a deal.” Harry wasn’t used to having people pay attention to him, let alone the whole bloody school. It was starting to wear on him. 

“That’s hardly interesting at all.” Padma pouted. 

Harry shrugged. It was not his job to entertain her. 

*

During their free period, when the Slytherins first-years congregated into the library for another one of pre-planned study sessions, Harry saw what Ginny meant. Draco seemed to be digging into Neville now that Ginny was running back to the dorms to get one of her books.

“Hey, Neville, come sit with me. You know your stuff on Herbology, and unlike some people didn’t whine at the idea of getting dirt beneath their nails.” He made it clear who he was referring to. 

“Err, yeah thanks.” 

Why did people blush so often when he talked to them? And Harry didn’t enjoy that he also looked scared of him. Better than looking down on him, he supposed. 

From there, Daphne took control of the study session. She already knew the first year material and it showed. Tracey was looking at her like she was her idol. 

He admired how she kept them all on task, and could scold Vincent and Greg from talking with just a well aimed glare. 

* 

Wednesday breakfast came with five letters. One was Harry’s usual Howler (which was ignited), another from Gringotts, from someone named Kreatcher and included a small parcel, and another with the elegant handwriting of Lady Malfoy.

The fifth was to Draco.

Harry glanced at Draco’s and saw that it was from Lady Malfoy too. 

Harry opened his own, not wanting to risk being blindsided. It started pleasant enough, asking after his health and giving him tips on studying. The tone slightly changed to what felt like an artificial worry, not that Harry was schooled in reading people, let alone through letters. She expressed how she wished for him and Draco to be friends and how first-year was stressful and could bring out the worst in people. She ended it with a suggestion of asking Draco to help him with his Wizengamot studies since Draco had been schooled in it since he was four. 

Harry hummed to himself, the idea of mirroring the Malfoys’ political stances blooming in his mind. That would certainly boil James. 

He glanced at Draco who was still reading. He looked put out, pouting in a way that was becoming familiar. Harry rolled his eyes and moved to the next letter.

Gringotts simply said that the Black seal wasn’t in any of his vaults, but they would try to contact the house elf that was registered at one of his properties. He hadn’t been aware there was still one alive. Kreacher, the house elf in question, wrote how filthy Harry’s blood was and how he didn’t deserve the family seal and if he had the choice he’d never give it to him. The amount of insults were almost funny. He tucked away the parcel to unwrap later. 

He handed over the Gringotts and Kreacher letters to Daphne, who had a nice laugh. 

“We should carve out some time to study up on the Wizengamot,” Harry said to Draco. He did an unholy eye roll and agreed. 

“Fine.” 

“Peace returnth to the land,” Blaise said dully. Draco shot him a sneer. 

Harry tucked into his filling breakfast, thanking his coma-dream for having such good and bountiful food. He couldn’t wait till his stomach grew to a normal size and he could handle a full meal. He was sick of how his stomach was still sunken in. 

Harry enjoyed Theo’s happy chatter and Neville’s tentative responses. Millie was her usual quiet self, but for a change she wasn’t ignoring everyone. 

“Morgana,” Ginny sighed out with a touch of annoyance to it. Harry followed her line of sight. Russ and Ron were heading towards them. Two other Gryffindor boys followed them. Harry rolled his eyes. 

Like a tidal wave, hissing rose from their table and engulfed all else. Russ and Ron froze in place. On the other side of the room the Gryffindors started booing and calling them names. It felt childish compared to the overwhelming force of all the Slytherins acting as one. 

Harry had never felt like he’d ever been a part of something, been embraced in something bigger than himself as he hissed with his house mates. 

*

Unity could only get them so far, considering their first lesson, Potions, was held with Gryffindor. 

Their prefect guide already had his wand out, a smile that Harry envied in place. 

“I can handle this,” Ginny said firmly to the prefect. 

Ron was the first one to speak. “Ginny—” 

She cut him off spectacularly. “Unless you're here to apologize or admit Slytherin is the best house, I don’t want to hear it.” His face went red, which was becoming a regular occurrence. 

“Harry, can we talk?” Russ asked before Ron could make a fool of himself again. 

As much as Harry wanted to ignore him, with Ginny boldly standing up against her own brother, Harry had to follow her example. “What is it?” He put on an air of superiority, trying to imitate Draco. 

Russ either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Why are you destroying da’s letters?” 

Harry stared at him for a beat, then another. “Are you seriously asking me that?” Harry almost laughed. 

Russ’ hands balled into fists at his sides. He opened his mouth to speak—to waste more of Harry’s time. Harry was having none of that. 

“They’re Howlers and I doubt they’re to congratulate me. If he wants me to talk to me he can write me a letter rather than try shouting at me.”

Surprisingly, Russ nodded in understanding. He shifted on his feet, glancing at the ground then back to Harry. “Did you really threaten to kill someone?” His voice was just above a whisper. 

“Of course not,” Harry said without hesitation. Russ’ shoulders relaxed. “I’m a Slytherin. We don’t make threats; we make promises.” 

*

Second block was Defense Against the Dark Arts. They’d already been warned ahead of time about Professor Quirrell’s stutter and his classroom reeking of garlic. Harry had heeded their warnings, but was still disappointed and put off with what he saw. 

On the positive side, Slytherin had another study guide. Apparently there was rumored to be a curse on the position that meant each year they had a new teacher. Inconsistency bred perseverance in Slytherin. Harry didn’t worry that his grades would suffer from such a blubbering man. 

Harry did… not that he could put it into words, but he felt bad for Quirrell. It wasn’t pity. Harry wasn’t sure what that emotion felt like when it wasn’t directed inwards. Empathy? He wasn’t certain. Harry’s past pathetic state of wearing Dudley’s dirty, oversized clothes, being skinny as a rail, and having every potential friend scared off had been outside of his control. Harry figured Quirrell’s stutter had been forced upon him too. 

Harry didn’t really want to contemplate how he felt, so when Quirrell suddenly fainted mid-sentence, it was a welcomed distraction. 

“Finally the fool shut up!” Draco crowed. 

Harry saw a chance to solidify his position further and took it without an ounce of hesitation. “Who knows where the hospital wing is?”

Neville reluctantly raised his hand. Somehow it wasn’t surprising that he was the one who knew. 

“Go tell whoever is in charge there that Professor Quirrell fainted.”

“I’m not very fast,” Neville mumbled under his breath. 

Harry softened his words, “Then walk.” Neville began gathering his things. “Leave it and go.” Neville squeaked and scurried out the door. 

“What now?” Theo asked. 

“Check Quirrell’s pulse. Tracey, pack up Neville’s things for him. If he’s not back by the time we head for our next class take it with you.” He figured those two were the weakest—Not that he particularly wanted to think of them that way—and would be easiest to boss around. He was proven correct. 

Theo prodded at Quirrell’s neck. Harry pretended to focus on the study guide, but watched under his eyelashes. 

“He’s alive,” Theo reported. 

“What a pity,” Blaise said in his usual tone. Harry snorted. 

“Sounds like the perfect time for a nap.” Draco looked pleased with himself. 

“And risk losing points when a professor comes in?” Harry asked, making eye-contact with a few of the other Slytherins. “Remember what Professor Snape said: we have to be clever.” He flipped the page of his study guide. “It’s not like we were learning anything from Quirrell. We’ll study.”

Blaise narrowed his eyes at the far from subtle command before leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes. Millie gave him a look, but pulled out her study guide. The others fell in line. 

Harry was proven right when a few minutes later Neville returned with an unfamiliar adult who gave them ten points for being studious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mystery thickens!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm amazed at the random amount of bickering the characters get into :p

* * *

The new rumor was Harry’s form were all secretly Death Eaters who were trying to kill Professor Quirrell since he used to teach Muggle Studies. It was worth a laugh, but could possibly cause unforeseen problems. 

Thursday morning brought no new letters, Howler or otherwise. Harry wondered what Russ had written exactly to James to make him shove off. One less immediate problem, but far from being put to rest. 

He was just happy to have breakfast without the smell of burned paper in the air. 

“Having messy hair is one thing,” Daphne said to him from across the table, “but I won’t abide pet hair.” She made a zigzag motion with her wand while saying an unfamiliar word. The multicolored Griever hair on him disappeared. “Much better.” 

“You’ll have to teach me that one.” Harry smoothed down his robes. 

Daphne gave an elegant nod. “After Charms.”

“Can I learn it too?” Ginny asked. “Arnold loves morning snuggles.” 

Daphne’s lips were thin. Pansy snickered. 

“We have to represent Slytherin in the best light.” Harry sat up a bit straighter, feeling like a prat.

“Well said, Harry.” Draco shot a look at Neville. “Would that everyone followed your example.” 

Neville slumped in his seat. “That’s why we have you, Draco, to show us how it’s done.” Harry laid it on thick. Unsurprisingly, Draco lapped it up. “Do you know an ironing spell to teach Neville?”

Draco scoffed. “I’m not a _house elf,”_ Draco spat out. “The problem is easily solved if _someone_ didn’t insist on taking a morning kip after getting dressed.”

Harry speared a piece of fruit. “It sounds like we need some time management.” He could feel a few of the older Slytherins looking his way. “As things stand, Draco, you’re the last one up, yet practically throws everyone out of the bathroom for your, and I quote, “morning ablutions”. Neville is working around your schedule, getting up earlier to take his shower and change so that he doesn’t get in your way. He’s just trying to catch a few more Z’s before breakfast.” 

“What of it?” Draco asked. 

Neville was staring down at his plate, face ruddy. Ginny was right. He really did need Harry’s help. 

“There are three obvious solutions. One, you wake up earlier so Neville can sleep in and not resort to taking a nap in his clothes.” 

“I think not.” Draco was starting to become testy. 

“Two, you let others in the bathroom while you’re in there.”

“And see his lily-white arse?” Blaise said. “No one wants to be blinded that early in the morning.” 

Harry shot him a look. Draco was definitely getting wound up. “Or three, you figure out a spell that does away with wrinkles.” 

“You’re forgetting the most obvious one.” Draco glared down his nose at Neville. “The idiot could wait to put on his uniform until he was ready to leave—Better yet, you _all_ should take showers at night so that I can have the bathroom to myself in the morning. It is woefully small.” 

“So small, I’m surprised your ego fits into it,” Blaise drawled out. 

Draco, surprisingly, didn't take the bait. “I stand by my point.” 

“Interesting,” Harry set down his fork and knife. “It sounds like we should all crowd in during your “ablutions” and show you how small the bathroom _really_ can be.” He could see Greg and Vincent starting to rise to Draco’s defense. “Or you could be a gem and find a spell to remove wrinkles from clothes and we’ll all be happy.” 

Draco looked like he was chewing cud. “Fine, Harry, but I won’t like it!” 

*

First block was DADA. Harry had no expectations and was happy for that when they entered the classroom and Professor Quirrell looked pale and had ornate feather fans flapping away at him. It only made the garlic scent worse. 

He gestured with a weak hand to the board were it said to read chapter two of their textbook. Quirrell then promptly laid his head down on the desk. Harry couldn’t blame his classmates for taking that as an invitation to talk. Harry didn’t allow himself the luxury though. 

Russ had already had plenty of training. Harry was behind and wouldn’t let the pampered prince show him up. To his left, Daphne worked on an essay. He was grateful for her silence. 

Harry was still getting used to all the interacting with other people that he had to do. It was frankly exhausting. He went from grumbling his complaints to the plants in the Dursley’s yard to not having a single moment to himself. When it came to Daphne, she already put all her cards on the table. He knew what to expect from her and that their interests aligned. She also helped him with all the wizarding culture he knew next to nothing about. 

He thought about the other Slytherins. Draco was a work in progress, and considering it had been less than a week, Harry was already making serious inroads. 

Harry wanted to talk more with Ginny, to see if his sense of comradery was one-sided. She could also be a good source of information about Russ. She clearly didn’t have a good relationship with him, but no doubt their proximity lent itself to learning about Russ. 

Theo and Tracey seemed to be following his lead, but he wouldn’t let that lull him. Tracey seemed like an outsider with the other girls—Actually, of the girls it looked like only Daphne and Pansy were friends. It was a strange, biting friendship from what Harry could see. Tracey did follow Daphne around though.

He got the feeling Pansy was cunning and would go the way that benefited her most. Having Daphne as a mutual friend would probably help too. 

Vincent and Greg were bound to Draco, and Draco was confident in their loyalty. 

Blaise was… Harry was still trying to figure him out. 

Then there was Millie. He wasn’t going to mess with her. 

As DADA let out, Quirrell looked worse for wear. 

* 

After dinner, Harry got a bit of solitude. He should be getting a nap like the older Slytherins advised him since he had Astronomy at midnight, but had shrugged them off. Harry was used to keeping odd hours. 

Harry went through the library aisles, getting a feeling for the place. There were a few titles that interested him, but frankly he had too much on his plate with school reading and all the studying for the Wizengamot meeting in December. That reminded him. He was going to study the Wizengamot with Draco Saturday morning. He would have to save light reading for later. 

“This is ridiculous!” a high-pitched, almost shrill voice said from one aisle over. “I’m all for reading history and theory, but the selection of non-fiction is pathetic.”

“Shh, Hermione!” another girl said, just above a whisper. “Madam Pince is still annoyed at you for that little rant about the buoy decimal system.”

“ _Dewey_ decimal system,” Hermione corrected. A muggleborn, then. Probably not worth his time. He had to be clever though, take every opportunity he could. 

Harry rounded the aisle. “Flourish and Blotts has a decent selection, but it’s nothing compared to muggle bookstores.” He was met with two Gryffindor girls. “Sorry for eavesdropping. I forgot to pack my other books and I’m regretting it.” He gave a smile that he hoped was bashful. “I’m Harry Potter. I think we have Potions together.” 

Both girls looked guarded. One had a mess of light brown hair—Though that might not be the right word for it. Harry’s was a mess, untamable, but her hair just looked like she brushed out her curls into a puff. Her complexion was lightly tanned and her brown eyes were narrowed in suspicion. 

The other girl had dark brown hair in an updo that reminded him of some of the ladies he saw in drawings when he learned the types of columns (Doric, Ionic, Corinthian) in school. It looked… complicated with a dark red ribbon laced throughout. She was pale with brown eyes. And very, very pretty. Even prettier than Daphne. 

The bushy hair girl opened her mouth in what looked like the start of a rant. The other one put a hand on her arm, stopping her. “I’m Ignis Tonks and this is Hermione Granger. We do have Potions together. You’re hard to miss with that last ‘chat’ you had with Russ.” 

“Slytherin plays by different rules.” Harry gave a carefree shrug that he’d never done before. It felt fake. 

Ignis smiled. “I understand. My mum was a Slytherin.” 

“Ignis,” Hermione hissed under her breath. She gripped her satchel tightly, taking a step away from Harry. 

“It’s a twin thing too. You saw what Ron did during the Sorting Ceremony.” That gave Hermione pause. Harry looked at the ground. “You don’t know what it’s like to be the brother of the Boy Who Lived.” From behind his eyelashes he saw Hermione soften. He shifted on his feet before looking back at her. “What’s your favorite book? I like The BFG.”

Hermione lit up, and she was off to the races. Thankfully, Harry was a prolific reader, mostly because of all the books Dudley discarded in his second bedroom. 

Ignis watched them chat quietly, her eyes unreadable.

*

Friday morning meant double Potions. Ignis waved at him, but Hermione was back on her guard. 

“Traitor!” Ron barked out. Russ looked uncomfortable, but the other Gryf boys agreed with Ron.

“Just because you’re too narrow minded to be friends with a Slytherin doesn’t mean everyone else is!” Ginny snapped at him. 

Would they ever have a peaceful conversation outside of the Potions classroom?

Ignis shrugged at Ron in an almost aristocratic manner. It reminded him of Lady Malfoy. “My mum was a Slytherin, my dad a Ravenclaw, and my sister was a Hufflepuff. I’m not going to ignore or hate someone because they’re in a different house than me.” She went over to Parvati, who usually stood away from the group. “I’m not Harry’s only Gryffindor friend either.” She elbowed Parvati. 

Harry was reminded that Parvati knew that he was a parselmouth. She took a deep breath. “Right, me and my sister hung out with him on the train with Daphne too.” 

“That’s before _he_ became a slimy Slytherin.” Ron pointed at Harry like he personally pissed in his cornflakes.

Ginny covered her face in embarrassment. “You’re so stupid, Ron.”

“Hey!” Russ shouted. “Don’t call Ron stupid!” 

“5 points from Gryffindor for shouting outside of my classroom,” Snape said while opening the door. Harry got the feeling that Snape waited for the perfect moment to appear in order to take points.

Russ didn’t argue, but it was a close thing.

They filed into the classroom, Daphne and Harry sitting together as usual. On the board was instructions for the Cure for Boils potion. A prefect had shown them how to brew it earlier in the week, along with the stern warning to be sure to remove the cauldron from the fire before adding in two porcupine quills. 

Harry wasn’t sure if he was confident as he gathered ingredients from the pantry. Seeing a potion made and doing it himself was another thing. He had a deft hand at using a kitchen knife, and Daphne did say she’d help him in class, but he was still worried. 

He glanced around. Ginny and Draco looked like they knew what they were doing, and so did Ignis. Daphne was stoic, but moved smoothly while crushing the snake fangs. He imitated her and was happy when their products looked the same. 

Professor Snape was scouring the area, a litany of harsh words for the Gryffindors. The one Gryf girl Harry didn’t know the name of looked close to crying. 

Harry didn’t like bullies. He’d had too many of them in his life. It was nice to see Russ being on the wrong end of it, though. Maybe one day he’d understand just a hint of the hell Harry went through. 

When most of the students (all of the Slytherins) reached the step where it was to brew for 33-45 minutes, Snape lectured on how they were supposed to tell when to move onto the next step. Ron and a few other Gryffindors struggled to listen and do the previous steps. 

Harry judged his potion was ready to add the horned slugs and a subtle nod from Daphne assured him it was time. The potion took on a crisp, almost forest like smell—Not that Harry had ever been in a forest before. He was familiar with pine scented cleaning products though. 

Harry had been burned enough times during cooking to touch the handle of the cauldron with the back of his hand to test if he needed to get gloves to lift it off the fire. It was surprisingly cool. For a worried moment he thought he’d forgotten to turn on the fire. It was lit though. Harry nearly rolled his eyes at himself. Of course, it was magic. 

The cauldron was heavy. When he noticed Daphne was having trouble lifting hers he moved it when Snape’s back was turned. 

After the last two steps his potion let out a beige puff instead of the pink smoke that it was supposed to. It was better than Ron’s smoke that was black. Russ’ was blood red. Hermione, Ignis, Draco, and Daphne’s all had the same shade of pink as the textbook showed. 

Snape demonstrated how to move the potion to a vial when all the Slytherins had finished. They labeled them with their names then put them on the vial rack on Snape’s desk. Snape took points away from one of the Gryffindor boys Harry didn’t know the name of when he overfilled the vial and potion came out when he tried to cork it. 

When all the potions were accounted for, Snape looked them over, his ever present scowl in place. He held one up that was off blue. “Mr. Potter the lesser! What part of ‘fine powder’ don’t you understand?” Russ went to answer. “Do you know what happens when you don’t powder the snake fangs? It doesn’t allow for the poison to cook off! This _disgrace_ is more likely to peel skin than cure boils.” He _incendioed_ it and grabbed another vial. “Mr. Weasley, are you aware you’re a wizard?” Ron’s face went red. “Are you a squib or too daft to remember to bring your wand to class? You were supposed to wave your wand twice over your potion, yet it doesn’t appear that you’ve used even a spark of magic! Do you know what happens when muggles try to make potions? They make pig-swill, much like your own!” Another spell destroyed the vial. Harry wondered what sort of Hogwarts budget went to vial replacements.

Snape grabbed two more vials, one of which was Harry’s—but the color was slightly different than when he bottled it, a few shades closer to what the textbook showed. “It is clear where the _superior_ twins went. Potter the greater and Ms. Weasley have outstripped you both at each turn. Ten points to Slytherin.”

Ron and Russ were fuming, along with a few other Gryffindors. 

Snape continued on assessing potions and taking away points from Gryffindor. Harry noticed that he skipped Hermione and Ignis’, the only Gryffindors who had gotten pink smoke. 

Harry’s thought about Snape worsening relations between Slytherins and other houses had proven true. It would only make it harder for Harry to make allies in Gryffindor and get the edge on staying one step above Russ.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of world building this chapter, and I try my hand at describing wizarding fashion. 
> 
> Etiquette idea came from Heccate, group magic and dark potions ideas from SalamanderInk.

* * *

It was Saturday morning and they had a lot pre-planned for them. As such, they were in the great hall earlier than most students.

“He’s going to eat you!” Draco said with his usual sneer as he glared at the back of Harry’s letter. “He _barely_ got us across the Black Lake and now he wants to have tea with you?” 

“I’ve had worse company,” Harry said while setting down the invitation for tea tomorrow from Hagrid. 

“I don’t know what disgusts me more, a half-breed or a muggle.” After a beat Draco realized what he said. He gave Harry a cautious look. 

“How do you define half-breed.” Harry’s eyes were narrowed. 

Blaise snickered, Pansy looked tense, and Ginny was focusing on their conversation. 

Draco sat up firmer. “A half-breed like Flitwick, part wizard part _creature.”_ He glanced around the table, looking for support. The other first-years looked guarded, waiting to see how it played out. 

Harry topped off his tea. “So you let the goblins handle your money despite them being creatures?” 

“The beasties are good with numbers.” Draco kept glancing around for support.

“For the sake of argument,” Daphne said, somehow sounding posh despite being an 11-year-old, “agreeing to use their banks helped stave off more goblin wars.” 

“Hmm,” Harry stirred his tea. “I can’t say much about goblins other than they keep good records.” 

“Professor Flitwick and Hagrid deserve the same respect as any wizard,” Ginny said while stabbing an egg on her plate. 

Harry shrugged, not bothered by the fire in her. “I’ll give everyone the same amount of respect until they do something to lose it, be it wizard, goblin, or _muggle.”_

“I think that’s fair.” Daphne shot a wry smile at Draco. “And it’s better than some people deserve.” 

Draco fluffed up like an insulted hippogriff. “What are you trying to say, Greengrass?” 

“I’m just surprised you haven’t made a bigger fool of yourself so far,” she raised her voice, laying it on thick. 

“You really are an embarrassment sometimes,” Pansy said, breaking away from her usual sycophant attitude. 

“What would your father say?” Daphne asked, eyes wide. 

Draco put a hand to his chest, as if his heart was shocked. He was quick to change his expression to his usually haughtiness. “My father has trained me to be the perfect head of the Molfoy family when he passes.” He lifted his chin. “Something you wouldn’t understand, _second-born.”_

Daphne made a dismissive hand gesture. “I don’t envy my siblings’ lessons, just remember you’re betrothed to a _third-born._ Your parents failed to secure me, and ended up with my little sister instead.” That was a surprise to Harry, though he had been aware that the two families interacted. “Though Astoria is far too good for you.”

“Oh Daphne, you’re just jealous that she’ll be spending her summers at my manor when she starts school.” He was smug again.

“Why is that?” Harry asked, not referring to the jealousy part.

“Right. I suppose you wouldn’t know.” He didn’t have his usual arrogance on display. “It’s tradition that the spouse that marries into the noble house teaches whoever else will marry into it.” 

He made it sound like gender didn’t matter. Harry paused to think of his wording. “Is there a custom for who takes whose last name?”

“Yes,” Pansy said. She looked oddly pleased by the turn of the conversation. “Those muggles have the ridiculous practice of using the man’s last name, I’ve heard; but we’re not so narrow-minded.” She patted her already clean lips with a napkin. “If someone is marrying the head of a house or heir they take on their house’s name. If they’re marrying someone who’s not, then it depends. 

“The head of the house that is nobler can choose to grant them the same last name, if they don’t the other head of the house can choose for them to use their own last name. If neither house wants to give them their name, the new couple can petition to use an ancestor’s last name, but that usually isn’t approved either. If all that fails, then they have to make their own name and that has to be approved by the head of _both_ their houses.” 

“That’s complicated.”

“Yes,” Pansy leaned across the table closer to him. “Though not everyone follows the tradition. It was quite the scandal when Molly Prewitt relinquished her last name to take on the lesser house’s name of her husband.” 

From the corner of his eye he saw Ginny tense up. Harry still had that odd sense of comradery so he decided to mess with Pansy a bit. He smiled at her. “I look forward to giving my future spouse my name.” Pansy preened and his warm gaze. “Of course, I prefer blondes.” The way Pansy wilted made the other Slytherin first-years chuckle. 

*

As they walked back to their dorms, he took notice of their clothes, and how his own compared. Harry was wearing a cream colored shirt that was loose at the top, but cinched in on his stomach. His sleeves were similar, loose on the top and tight on his forearms, but with the addition of a row of buttons. Draco had shown him some spell to fasten them, but he’d been too groggy to actually remember it. His slate grey slacks were high waisted and unlike anything he’d ever worn before. It matched the embroidery of the open robe it came with, which was dark blue. His ankle high boots were black and mostly hidden by his slacks.

He glanced around at the other students.

Vincent and Greg’s were similar, but their shirts were loose around their stomachs. They looked like a mess, but similar in style. Theo’s outfit looked more relaxed, the collar not going as high as Harry or Draco’s.

Neville looked uncomfortable, which was nothing new. His shirt was scarlet red and button up. The buttons were gold and probably in poor taste to wear as a Slytherin. It made Harry question where he’d expected to be sorted, not that he’d voice that. His britches were… They reminded Harry of how the man who came to read Shakespear at their school had dressed. His shorts were ballooned out, striped red and blue. His white, thin socks going all the way up and disappearing beneath his shorts.

Blaise and Draco looked to be competing for who looked best. Though that might just be the self-confident attitude they both sported in spades. 

Harry had no reference for fashion. When he’d gotten his school robes fitted he’d trusted the store clerk, well, as much as he trusted anyone, to pick up a variety of clothes for him to get more than the three outfits James had (begrudgingly) gotten him. 

The girls were, Harry hadn’t noticed before, but Ginny was still wearing her school robes. Daphne was in a blue dress that was trimmed with cream lace. It went down to her ankles, which was in line with most of the witches he’d seen thus far. 

Millie had a closed robe that was black with flashes of subtle silver on the hem. It took Harry a moment to realize it was embroidered fish leaping up then disappearing when they fell. It was almost hypnotizing. He had to pull himself away from looking.

Tracey was wearing a sunshine yellow dress that was a stark contrast to the oppressive dungeon. Her long ombre hair was in a bun, thumbnail sized yellow flowers dotting it. She had a flittering happiness to her that Harry found strange. Maybe it was a girl thing. 

Unlike the dresses and robes of the other girls, Pansy was wearing a starched outfit that Harry thought some old timey fencing dueler would wear. She looked rail thin, the black only worsening the effect. The sharp lines of her outfit worked well with the cut of her short black hair that was so straight that it looked like the edge of a blade. The only color to break up the midnight black was the vertical fold of her shirt that was off center and green. 

“Like something you see?” Pansy asked, confusing Harry.

“What?” 

Pansy rolled her eyes and Millie chortled. Pansy glared in response which only heightened Millie’s glee. 

They girls and boys split up to gather their books for the mandatory study session. There was a room set aside for them, but Harry had to go through the milling older students first. It was hard not to notice their expressions. 

“How many of them hate me?” Harry asked once they made it to the first-year study room. He’d been so focused on his immediate circle that he was only now noticing some of the looks the older Slytherins gave him. 

“Hate isn’t the word I’d use,” Daphne said diplomatically while setting down her books. “They’re wary.” 

“I’ve heard the whispers.” Pansy had an assessing look on her face. “Some think you’re a spy for Dumbledore, some hold a grudge with your brother since they supported You Know Who, and you’re just in the crossfire. Others just don’t like how you’re,” she paused. “You're rocking the boat and not everyone appreciates that.”

“Everyone thought the Black dynasty was effectively done,” Daphne added. “The Black family is near the top of the noble hierarchy, and now you’re Lord Black, an outsider and the brother of The Boy Who Lived.” 

Draco snapped his fingers. “You should look into who your vassals are.”

“Vassals?”

A prefect joined them, one that hadn’t led them around during the first week.

“I’ll explain it to you later.” 

The prefect had a blocky build and sour expression. “Enough chatter, I’m Carac Burke. I’m a seventh-year that’s supposed to help you, but I have more important things to do than babysit some firsties. I’m casting a silencing spell, and no, I won’t teach you how to use it. If you come near me it will break the spell. Don’t come near me.” He sequestered himself to a corner of the room, flicked his wand with a word Harry didn’t recognize, and opened a thick book. 

“Some help he is,” Blaise said dryly. 

“We already have a study guide for DADA and History of Magic. Let’s divy it up the rest.” Daphne pulled out a parchment and quill. “Draco, you’ll teach potions, Pansy astronomy, and… Are any of you others confident in other subjects?”

Neville raised his hand awkwardly. “Err, herbology.” Daphne jotted his name down.

“Charms,” Blaise said.

Daphne nodded. “That leaves Transfiguration, which I’ll cover.” 

She put them in order that they encountered them during the week, including a general outline of what needed to be taught. It was far more structured than any studying Harry had ever done. 

*

Halfway through Daphne’s lecture on Transfiguration, her lips twisted. It was as close to unpleasant as Harry had ever seen her. “The Ministry dictates that an intended transformation’s success depends on body weight, viciousness, wand power, concentration, and a fifth ‘unknown’ variable.” 

Pansy scoffed. Harry could tell some of the others in their study group were irritated. 

“Regardless,” Daphne tapped her finger on her parchment, “write it and learn it.” 

Harry jotted down what she said. “Why do you look sour?” he asked Daphne, glancing at her parchment to make sure he got it right. 

“Because it’s a load of bollocks,” Draco answered.

Blaise gasped dramatically. “Language, Heir Malfoy!”

They started to squabble, but Daphne shot them a look before turning to Harry.

She rested her quill on a piece of jade as long and wide as his finger. It had a slight indent to capture any ink that fell off. 

“There’s three schools of thought on magic: Light, Dark, and Grey. Hogwarts teaches Light magic, the Ministry nearly outright bands Dark magic, and even Grey magic is suspect.” She wrinkled her nose and some distant part of Harry thought that might be cute. “The Light seeks to _control_ Magic, while ‘Dark’ wizards and witches, let Magic act through us.” 

She paused in thought then picked her quill up again. In a dainty motion she dipped it in ink before writing down an equation. 

t = ((w×c)/(v×a))Z

“Don’t worry,” she laughed at his expression. “This is third year information. I won’t go into details, but they use factor Z, the ‘unknown variable’ as a catch all/mystery when it is, in the simplest terms, Magic’s consciousness.” She pointed at the letter v. “Viciousness, that’s the amount of willpower a Light wizard has to exert to overcome Magic’s intentions.”

“Light wizards focus on an image while doing transfigurations,” Millie spoke up, grabbing everyone’s attention since she rarely talked. “Dark wizards know what they want in general, and let Magic shape it.”

“That stays in the dorms,” Carac said from his perch off to the side. The prefect had his books packed. “Get lunch. Gemma is going to tell you about special courses and your group magic project this year.” He left after giving them a withering glare.

As Harry packed up his things (being certain the ink on his parchment was dry), he noticed how uncomfortable Ginny looked. He didn’t get a chance to ask her what was wrong though, not with everyone else around. 

*

Harry was tired, not physically, but mentally. He’d left lunch early so he could have a few minutes to himself. Being around so many people was exhausting. At least the Slytherins weren’t as loud as the Gryffindors or disregarded personal space like the Hufflepuffs. 

He was laying on his bed, curtains closed and with Griever by his side. Griever had his head on Harry’s chest, a steady purr acting almost as a lullaby. He ran his fingers through his long hair, mostly black today, but his fox tail was white with the tip black. 

Harry was still amazed that he was lucky enough to have a pet. He felt like a silent protector, someone who would always be in his corner. He’d seen the glare Griever sent Draco’s way when he went on one of his useless tangents. Griever had caused him to stumble over his words, and Blaise was quick to capitalize on his fumble. 

Griever was also quite good at _only_ leaving his fur on Draco’s bed, much to the annoyance of the other boy. He got pets and compliments from Blaise. Vincent acted like he had no idea how to interact with a cat. Neville acted nervous around him, possibly because of Griever’s sharp eyes. 

Griever lifted his head, looking towards the entrance. It pulled Harry out of his thoughts and made him uneasy. Griever’s eyes were steadily on the closed bed curtains. 

Harry flung them open to see Blaise standing right outside of them, cleaning his fingernails. “Oh, there you are, Harry,” he monotoned, “We’re getting Ginny new clothes and accessories so that she can better represent Slytherin proudly.” He looked up from his nails. “You’re useless when it comes to style so we’ll be accepting a donation for the cause.”

“I have the feeling Ginny isn’t a fan of this.” A part of him hated the idea, but considered how much of a relief it would have been for someone to get him decent clothes when he lived with the Dursley’s—Not that he’d ever have a chance to wear them. The Dursleys would have skinned him and branded him as a thief. 

There was also Ron’s reaction to think about. He couldn’t imagine him being happy, and keeping it to himself wasn’t in his nature. And didn’t Ginny have other brothers at Hogwarts? This could be a disaster.

“They’re orders straight from the top.” Blaise shrugged. “Pansy and I will be in charge of choosing her suitable things.”

“And me!” Draco nearly shouted while coming in. The other boys trailed after. Neville and Theo were in the back, whispering to each other. 

As was their way, Blaise and Draco started arguing. 

Harry stood from his bed while rolling his eyes. It took him a few tries to perform the pet hair removal spell on himself correctly. 

“Let’s not leave Gemma waiting,” Harry said, cutting through their nonsense. He was grateful that they calmed down. 

They left to meet Gemma in the same room they’d studied in. Harry noticed that she seemed happier than most Slytherins. Maybe that was why she was chosen to be in charge of the first-years. There was a stack of books by her and she was worrying away at a rolled up piece of parchment in her hands. 

“Hey gang,” she said while standing, her ringlet, auburn hair bouncing. “One of the many perks of being in Slytherin is our special courses. Hogwarts is sadly lacking under Headmaster Dumbeldore so Professor Snape arranged classes. Most are student-led, but Professor Snape teaches a couple and he brings in other teachers for the more advanced classes. If you show talent in a particular class you’ll be chosen to help teach the first level of students next year.” Her expression turned firm. “If you participate you have to take it seriously.”

Her expressions eased back into a smile. “There’s things like magical archery, duplicity studies, fabric magic, etiquette; There will be a whole list of different courses and times will be posted on the notice board tomorrow evening.” She looked skyward then back at them. “Oh! And meditation, which is required if you want to take mind magic or dark potions later on. It might sound boring, but you should take meditation. Mind magic is essential for Slytherins.”

Her grin turned almost wild. “Most excitedly is your group project! I’ve done the arithmancy based on your numbers, genders, birthdays, and all put together to figure out what sort of project you’ll have!” Gemma held up her parchment. “I’m getting ahead of myself though. Professor Snape needs to check my work though.” She straightened up. “Each year does their own project in private. You’re not supposed to let other years know your subject. And group magic isn’t _technically_ dark, but don’t mention them in mixed company.”

She gave them a conspiratorial wink and Harry grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written a series of HP [drabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016179), a funny snarry [one-shot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27656291), and I'm 3ch into a metamorphmagus!Harry [fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27305305/chapters/66714121), if you're interested.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m using the cliche of the Malfoys and Weasleys having a family feud. It just fit so well I couldn’t not use it ;) Don't worry, it's only a passing remark.

* * *

Harry was tempted to shout at Draco, and they had only just started breakfast.

“Mother has a standing order at L'arbre au Chocolat for me. You all really should be grateful,” Draco said while flourishing the box of chocolates. It was as wide and long as their potions book, but double tiered. The chocolates were delicately resting in some sort of tissue paper that was its own sugary sweet. Each chocolate gleamed and was hand decorated. 

Harry only had one and he was already addicted. 

Beating up Draco to get more than the two chocolates he’d offered would not be wise, probably. 

“Chocolate before breakfast? Isn’t that how you get fat?” Blaise asked, piling fresh cut fruit on his plate. “And isn’t that a muggle confectionery?” 

“It’s wizard owned. The muggles are lucky we allow them to have some, and not all of us are in need of watching our figure.” Draco gave Blaise a judgmental look. Harry used his distraction to grab another chocolate. Greg tried to do the same, but Draco hissed at him like an irritated cat. 

Harry  _ really _ wanted another. It sounded French and probably expensi—But Harry was rich now. He could afford to buy fancy French chocolates. 

“I wouldn’t mind putting on more weight.” Harry risked taking another one. Draco gave him the stink-eye, pulling the box closer to himself. “Do they do mail orders?” 

He wasn’t sure if wizards sent things across borders. Were France and Britain considered different countries like in the muggle world? Did they have some other relationship? And what of Germany? Did wizards participate in the world wars? He really hated being ignorant.

Draco’s snarl smoothed out. “L'arbre au Chocolat doesn’t… for most. I can write to my mother and she can set something up for you, for  _ family.” _

Harry tried one of the smiles he’d been practicing in the mirror. “Thank you,  _ cousin.” _ It seemed to appease him. It also garnered an approving nod from Daphne. 

The conversation moved on and Harry appeased himself by loading his pancakes with plenty of whipped cream, with only a concession of strawberries to pretend he was healthy. He hummed happily to himself. 

Not everyone was in as good a mood as him, though. Theo was biting at his nails while reading a letter. Millie was staring at her cup of… something like it was the only thing in the room. Ginny looked immensely uncomfortable in a fine purple robe. Her hair was pulled up into some sort of knot with an emerald encrusted barrette that was twisted to look like a sprig of leaves. 

“That’s a beautiful barrette,” Harry commented to Ginny while fixing a cuppa. He was still trying to figure out how he took his tea. 

Ginny turned beet-red, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at her plate. 

Harry shrugged off her lack of response. At least Pansy looked pleased by the compliment. She opened her mouth, but then winced and looked at Daphne. 

Tracey was happily chatting with Neville. He had a small, almost tentative smile. 

Theo froze in place, drawing the others attention. Theo’s cornflower blue eyes were wide, and directly staring at Harry, turning Harry’s curiosity into dread. 

An upper-year Slytherin girl with the same colored eyes as Theo was walking towards them. 

Theo hastily stood up then dipped into a low bow. “Lord Black,” Theo’s voice cracked, “may I present my older sister, Julia Nott, Heir to House Nott.” He gestured towards her. 

Julia bowed to Harry. “Lord Black, House Nott wishes to renew our vassalage with House Black.” The whole hall was now watching them, including the professors. 

Harry looked between Draco and Daphne in desperation, not knowing what to say. Draco looked like he was trying not to laugh, but at least Daphne was trying to be helpful. She gestured for him to stand. 

Harry composed himself while setting aside his napkin and getting to his feet. From the corner of his eyes he read Daphne’s lips and repeated after her. “I will embrace House Nott’s magic with my own and all of House Black’s.” 

Julia rose from her bow. “Thank you, Lord Black.” Theo repeated the sentiment before the pair retreated in a sort of gracefulness that was cultured. 

Harry waited a beat before sitting back down again. Whispers broke out through the hall. Some of the staff looked displeased, especially Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore. Harry didn’t bother to turn to see his Russ’ reaction. 

Oh, James was going to have a field day with this. 

Harry took a fortifying sip of tea. Less sugar next time. 

“What just happened?” 

“I told you, you should have looked up House Black’s vassals,” Draco said, the epitome of unhelpfulness. 

“Me and Vincent are Malfoy vassals,” Greg spoke up, breaking his usual silence. “Their house protects ours.”

“Sometimes they’re business alliances,” Neville added in. Ginny looked mildly interested. “A lord can raise the importance of their vassal. They can grant land and financial support. It’s a military alliance too. If the Malfoys went to war or declared a family feud the vassals would have to do the same.” 

“Say,  _ Weasley, _ the Malfoys declared a feud with your house, but you lot are too ignorant to be bothered with. I ought to put you in your place.”

Ginny was undaunted. “Did you forget I have six older brothers,  _ Malfoy.  _ I’d beat you bloody.” She had a vicious grin Harry could appreciate.

Draco let out a strangled noise. “How  _ muggle _ of you.” 

“You should look up nuclear bombs,” Harry added. “You wouldn’t insult them so much if you knew what they are capable of.” 

Draco scoffed. 

Harry knew he wouldn’t get through to him anytime, but it was definitely fun to tease them. 

“Tracey is one of my family’s vassals,” Daphne said. 

Tracey leaned against her slightly, smiling. “The Greengrasses really treat us well. They even let my mom marry a squib.”

Draco looked scandalized. “Why I never—”

“You sound like a pearl clutching old woman.” As was their way, Blaise and Draco started bickering. 

“The Abbott family has been one of Longbottom’s vassals for centuries. It’s more of a ceremonial thing though.” Neville shrugged. 

Harry pursed his lips in thought. “Don’t we have a first year Abbott?” He only remembered that since it was the first name called out during the sorting ceremony. 

“Yeah, Hannah. Our parents wanted us to be friends, but we never really hit it off. Maybe because she’s a girl,” Neville mumbled the last part. 

“What about you, Millie?” Harry asked, trying to include her in the conversation. 

“I don’t want to talk about that.” He could barely hear her voice over the din of the hall. 

Harry and Daphne exchanged a look. 

He pulled attention back to himself. “What is expected of me?” 

“The Blacks are—was, are?” Draco squinted his silvery eyes. “I’m sure they have some grand charter already drawn up. I’ll ask mother about it.” 

“Thank you.” He didn’t like how much he relied on Draco, but at least he was amicable. 

“You should write Gringotts too,” Daphne added. “Most families keep important documents there.” At least Harry knew Daphne’s motives, or the motives she told him. “You’ll need to study up on the renewal ceremony. It should be held as soon as possible. Dumbledore probably won’t allow it to take place in Hogwarts, since it’s ‘dark’ magic, even though it doesn’t necessarily have to be.” Daphne rolled her eyes. It contrasted with her usual elegance. “Professor Snape can take you off grounds so long as he gets you back before curfew.”

That assumed James didn’t interfere. Harry would work around him though. He would embrace this. After all, it was another step to securing a better future

*

Griever was surprisingly well behaved around Draco’s vegetable lamb, Bastion. That being said, Griever’s attention was solely on the little creature. Harry wondered if foxes were omnivores. 

They were in the first-year study room. Everyone else was seizing their free day and doing something far more interesting elsewhere. 

“Three faction,” Draco continued on their Wizengamot lesson, “the Way, which is our party,” Harry didn’t call him out on being presumptuous, “the Dawns, which your father is in, and the Fair party, which is just a bunch of ninnies who refuse to pick a side. Dumbledore leads the Wizengamot, unfortunately.”

“Draco, I already know all that. I was hoping you could help me look through the proposed bills.”

Draco’s eyes lit up. “Father and mother are brilliant at sussing bills out. I, of course, have the same ability.” 

“Of course,” Harry said, barley keeping the sarcasm out of his voice. Good thing Blaise wasn’t around. 

Harry supplied the proposed bills that Lady Malfoy had sent him, along with the official ones from the Wizengamot. They were identical, which was a relief, but the ones from Lady Malfoy had notes attached to them. 

An hour and half went by in vain before they switched to the judicial aspect of the Wizengamot. Draco supplied transcripts of past court cases. They were mind numbing, but the briefs written about continuous, divided rulings by different parties was interesting. A wizard or witch would only be found guilty if the majority of the Wizengamot voted as such. 

Harry learned of a few more obscure laws. It was frankly overwhelming. He would not fail though. He wouldn’t give James or  _ any of them _ a chance to find him lacking. 

*

A bit before lunch, Blaise, Daphne, Pansy, Neville, and Ginny joined them. Pansy was carrying a stack of three books and Blaise had another. Their covers were glossy, unlike any other wizarding book Harry had seen before. 

“Owl order catalogues,” Blaise answered before Harry could ask. 

Harry glanced at Ginny; she looked livid, yet resigned, if such a mixture was possible. 

“You can go, Harry,” Pansy said. “You won’t be of any help.” 

“Nonsense,” Draco cut in. “Well, he is useless, but Harry needs more clothing anyway. He barely has enough clothes to qualify as a wardrobe. And just look at him!  _ Standard _ cufflinks!” Draco gave him a mild look of disgust. “Your glasses are practically a physical disfigurement! It’s like you’re trying to embarrass us! And you don’t even have jewelry with the Black crest on it.” Harry suddenly remembered the necklace he was wearing, the one that came from the deepest Black vault. He still hadn’t examined it properly. “Do you even have your Wizengamot robes yet?” Harry hadn’t been aware there was a uniform. Draco read his expression. “See! He’s hopeless without us! Salazar forbid he starts dressing like Neville!” 

“My gran bought my outfits, but, uhm, some of them are my dad’s old things,” Neville mumbled. “Do they really look that bad?”

“I hate this,” Ginny stated firmly, halting their conversation. “I don’t need new clothes. I don’t need your  _ charity.” _

Draco looked like he was gearing up for an argument. 

“I used to only have my fat cousin hand-me-down clothes to wear,” Harry cut in, refusing to feel ashamed. “He used to rip them and stain them on purpose before I got them. It’s only pure luck I got out of there and had money fall in my lap.” Ginny was still glaring at the ground. “I don’t know what Professor Snape said, but you deserve nice things. We… want you to feel welcomed, a part of our group. Nearly everyone else despises. We need to help each other so that they don’t tear us to bits.” 

Ginny took in a stuttered breath. She crossed her arms and squeezed herself. “How am I supposed to help you all out? I’m dirt poor. I’ve never had more than a galleon before, and that was only from when I found it at Diagon Alley.” A tear slipped free. Harry didn’t know how to handle a crying girl, but he needed to maintain his leadership role. 

“You help me with James, my dad. He knows you. He knows you’re not evil. You’re helping him see that he shouldn’t give up on me just because I was sorted into Slytherin.” The lie tasted bitter on his tongue. 

Ginny shot him a look that he couldn’t read. 

“And that older pair of Weasley twins hasn’t pranked us once,” Daphne added. “I heard they’re always terrible to first-year snakes, but with you here you can help keep us safe, or at least know the signs of when they’re going to attack.”

Ginny shrugged slightly.

Pansy made a sniffing noise that somehow sounded arrogant. “I do enjoy your presence, to a certain extent. You’re far more interesting than Tracey and Millie.”

“Hey, Tracey is fantastic.” Daphne pointed at her, the promise of violence on the horizon if she disagreed. 

Pansy shrugged. 

“And you’re very pretty.” Blaise’s smile turned charming. Ginny let out a little ‘eep’. “You make all the other girls look like hags—Present company excluded—When you dress up they’ll be too intimidated to, in vulgar terms, start shit with you.” 

Ginny turned that over in her head a few times. “Fine, but nothing too,” she seemed to be searching for the word, “extreme.” 

“Define too extreme.” Blaise just had a way of starting argument. Draco looked pleased to not be the target, for once. 

Draco took one of the owl order fashion books and sequestered Harry to the side. They started going in through it, Harry passively watching as Draco made comments galore. The items were adding up fast, especially when they went to the next catalogue. Harry frankly should be daunted by the price, but he knew he could afford it. 

The running theme was snakes and the color green. He found himself favoring items that had a glint of metal to them. The gems he could do without, feeling that they were feminine, despite Draco and Daphne’s reassurances. He favored the robes that had subtle moving designs. His collection of pocket watches more than tripled. He was also pulled towards the little hair ties that ranged in color. He might have to grow his hair out just to buy a few. 

They put off buying new glasses since he hadn’t had his eyes examined since he was nine. He’d see Madame Pomfrey after classes tomorrow.

Ginny was much better at shooting them down, while Neville submitted to it, but made his budget very clear. 

Daphne, Draco, Pansy, and Blaise were having fun. Ginny seemed to like Pansy’s picks more than the others. Pansy gloated and Blaise mumbled about them having poor taste. Daphne was good at easing Neville into buying clothes that he wasn’t comfortable with, which was pretty much all of them. 

Harry admired her subtlety and light touch when it came to getting what she wanted. Though marriage was the last thing on his mind, and he wasn’t even sure if he liked girls, he could appreciate the team they could make. 

*

The rest of Hogwarts was still giving Harry looks at lunch, Russ in particular. A part of Harry wanted to talk to him, though he couldn’t really identify why. They were going in completely different directions, and Russ was a living reminder of everything Harry was denied. He made Harry uncomfortable.

Theo had returned from the ether. He was nervous and kept glancing in Harry’s direction. Blaise was clearly enjoying his discomfort, while the others mostly ignored him. Only Vincent was making light conversation with him. 

Harry decided to do something about the awkwardness before it could become the norm. “Theo,” he called his attention.

“Yes, Lord Black.” Theo’s voice sounded like it was about to crack. From the corner of his eye he could see Julia Nott’s attention coming their way. 

“We’re in the same year and house. I thought we were building up a friendship…” Harry let him squirm despite it going counter to his goal. Maybe he was getting sadistic. He’d have to watch for that. “Refer to me as Harry, unless we are doing something official. I have no plans of,” what was the word? Maybe a rephrasing would be best. “If I need something from you, I’ll tell you. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me.” Now to add in a bite, to keep him on his toes. “Don’t disappoint me,” he echoed Professor Snape’s words. 

Theo took a cliche swallow, as if trying to digest what he said—Or taking it properly in. 

Despite himself, he glanced at Daphne across from him, not exactly for approval, but to see her reaction. She gave him a faint nod. Beside her, Ginny was gnawing on her lip, eyes glancing in a circle from Theo, Harry, and her plate. 

“Remember, Ginny, we have to be clever.” He wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to say. Her lips pursed, but she didn’t respond. 

As lunch wrapped up, the great hall dropped in volume abruptly. People were watching two more students heading in his direction. Another vassal? No, it was the Patil twins, and they were relaxed. 

“Heya, Harry,” Padma said brightly. It made Harry tired. How did everyone have so much energy to be upbeat? Or was he just a morose child, beaten down too many times to bask in the sun? There was no need to be poetic about it. 

“Good afternoon.” He sounded snooty even to himself. He blunted it with a smile. It seemed to do the trick. 

“Hi.” Parvati gave him a wave. “Want to hang out with us by the lake? The weather is good so we thought we’d let our  _ snakes _ get some sun.” Her subtlety was atrocious, but thankfully vague. He must have been slow answering them, because Parvati shifted on her feet. 

“Sure, I’ll bring Griever.” He turned to Daphne. “Do you want to join us?” Or was it a faux pas to invite someone else along? Whatever. 

She dabbed her lips. “No thank you.” She gave no explanation. Harry realized that he was waiting for her to justify herself despite owing him nothing. Was he getting a fat head?

Draco gave him a questioning look, and Harry took a page out of Daphne’s book and didn’t give an explanation. 

Harry stood. “I’ll meet you two at the entrance hall.” 

Outside of the great hall, it was strange walking by himself after being constantly accompanied by the other first-year Slytherins. He felt some weight lift from his shoulders, yet it also made him feel vulnerable. The wand holster on his forearm was a comfort even though he didn’t know many spells yet. He would learn and he would crush James.

*

Harry was initially worried when Griever wondered from the picnic blanket Padma had brought. He had to trust his kneazle-fox mix to come back, even though it wasn’t in Harry’s nature. He watched with half an eye as Griever went around digging and doing an odd sort of pounce where he nearly went vertical with his head down.

His tail shot up near Hagrid’s hut. He dug like mad and there was a weird noise. Griever pulled out a small creature that looked like a potato, but with a face and body. He held it down with his paws then made a jerking motion with his maw on the creature. It stopped moving. 

With it still in his mouth, Griever trotted away. 

Neither of the girls noticed, or at least they didn’t find it worth commenting. 

Harry kept a running conversation of translating their snakes. It was a mental break and he enjoyed the sun. It was pleasant outside and knowing that he could retreat from the sun and wasn’t forced to work his hands bloody helped.

Padma and Parvati’s heads turned in the same direction in sync. He followed their line of sight. Ignis and Hermione were heading their way. 

Ignis waved at them. Hermione looked nervous, clutching a book in a white knuckled grip. 

Harry whispered out to the snakes that he wouldn’t be able to talk to them with others around. 

“Is it alright if we join you?” Ignis asked. Hermione was standing slightly behind her, as if Ignis was her shield. 

Padma nose scrunched. Harry wouldn’t have noticed it if not for him practicing reading Daphne’s expressions. 

Parvati had no such hesitation. “Sure! Do you guys have pets?” 

Ignis kicked off her shiny, low ankle boots before joining them on the blanket. Hermione hastily toed off her muggle trainers. Everyone else was in wizarding clothes. Harry could sympathize with sticking out like a sore thumb. 

“Not really,” Ignis said while sitting down. She pulled off her socks then tossed them towards her boots. “My sister has every pet allergy under the sun.” She rolled her deep brown eyes. 

Hermione put her book in her lap, brushing her right thumb over the spine. “I’d like one of those big kneazle-cats, but my parents said I need to be older.” She started speeding up. “I’m plenty responsible. They’ve seen my grades at my last school! I take things seriously. Plenty of 11-year-olds have pets, and I’m going to be 12 in a few weeks. Really, they’re being unreasonable. I’ve written them on the subject—” Ignis nudged her with her elbow. Hermione took in a deep breath. “Right. No, I don’t have a pet.” Hermione gave Ignis a grateful look.

“I have a kneazle-fox,” Harry said, “but I’m not sure where he went off to.” 

Hermione’s eyes lit up. “I’ve heard they’re terribly smart. I’m sure if you call him, he’ll come back.” 

Harry nodded and took in a breath, before realizing he’d never really shouted before, at least without being in too much pain to control himself. Any noise had been an excuse for the Dursleys to beat him. 

He cleared his throat. “Griever!” Shouting made him immensely uncomfortable. He felt like he was about to be hit. He glanced around, wanting to hide himself away. 

Griever appeared from down the way, jumping over a pile of rocks, each the size of Harry’s head. He was licking his chops and his white maw was doing nothing to hide the blood there. 

Hermione was the only one that looked disturbed as he trotted over. She pulled out her wand and Harry was ready to knock it away if she tried to hurt Griever. She gave Harry a hesitant look instead. “I know a cleaning spell, if you like,” she said hesitantly. 

“You’re confident you can do it?”

“Yes,” Hermione squeaked. Ignis nodded, bolstering her. 

Harry raised his chin, waiting a bit as he stared at her before looking to Griever. “What do you think?”

Griever tracked dirt onto the blanket, sniffing at Hermione before sitting in front of her. 

“You heard the man.” He gestured towards Griever. If she botched this there would be hell to pay. She must have sensed that as she paled, but mustered up her Gryffindor courage and nodded to herself.

“Right,  _ scourgify.” _ The blood and dirt was whisked away. Griever sneezed, and it was the most undignified and cute thing he’d ever seen him do. Harry was almost embarrassed. 

“Hello, Griever,” she cleared her throat at his narrow-eyed look, “Mr. Griever.” That seemed to appease the beastie. He and Harry were quite the pair. 

Griever rested his head on her thigh. Hermione tentatively petted him before relaxing and digging her fingers in deeper into his fur. 

Hermione and Ignis knew Parvati despite her being in a different house. He felt like he should feel awkward, being the only boy here, but he was already ill at ease being around people, so it wasn’t anything new. 

The conversation was mostly focused on classes. He struck up a light banter with the Gryffindors about Snape, admitting he was biased. Hermione’s hair seemed to inflate with indignantly. This seemed to entertain Ignis, but exasperate Padma. 

Parvati gave them another view of Potions class. Ravenclaw students either followed the directions exactly, or were too busy asking questions to pay attention to their potion. Hufflepuffs had points taken away from asking each other for tips, Snape tiredly interjecting. It sounded a lot less hostile. 

He found the conversation less interesting than the ones he had with his fellow Slytherins, but that might just be because he was more familiar with them. 

“You’re brother is coming over,” Padma pointed out. 

For a fleeting moment Harry thought she was making a joke. He had no brother. He was just the beaten creature living in the Durlsey’s cupboard. But no, this was his coma-dream. He had a ‘brother’. 

Harry looked in the direction Padma was pointing to. Russ was surprisingly alone, despite Ron usually sticking to him like a limpet as well as the trailing fans. He waved with a nervous, almost hopeful smile. 

Harry didn’t know quite how to react. He mirrored those he was sitting with, waving in response. Griver moved over to Harry, leaning against him. His sun warmed fur and weight were comforting. 

Russ stumbled when he saw the Patil snakes. Nisol and Besso were being little bastards and acting macho, if such a thing was possible. No doubt Russ hated them just because of James. It did feel good to hear the snakes not treat Russ with adulation, like what was clearly shining in Hermione and the Patil sisters’ eyes.

“Scared of a few snakes?” The words fell from his lips, before he could stop them. He’d spent too much time with Blaise.

“Er, no?” Russ said. That got Padma and Parvarti giggling. He flushed. “Uhm, Harry. We should probably get going to Hagrid’s.”

Alarm bells went off in his head. The letter said nothing about Russ visiting at the same time.

Be clever. Harry glanced at his pocket watch. “We don’t want to keep James waiting.” 

“What?”

Harry looked closely at his expression. He looked completely confused. Either he was a great actor, it wasn’t a trap, he didn’t know it was a trap, or James wouldn’t be there. He wished Daphne was here. She’d be able to tell better than him. 

“I thought James was coming too,” he tried again.

“Really?” 

Ah, how to ease him down from his fresh excitement? “Oh, sorry. That’s another day.” He rose from the blanket and pulled on his dragon-hide boots (that Draco had criticised earlier in the day). “I’ll see you guys later. We should hang out again.”

Harry received promises that he held little stock in. Russ didn’t say anything as they headed towards Hagrid’s. Russ looked contemplative. 

Thoughts rolled around in Harry’s head, trying to figure out what, if anything, he should say to him. He wasn’t sure of his own goals, so he couldn’t really make a plan. He was floundering. 

Russ spoke first. “What’s Slytherin like?” 

“It’s… a lot.” He wasn’t sure how much he could actually say. “Professor Snape scheduled us study time.” 

Russ cringed. “Hermione would love that.” There was a pause, Griever darting ahead. “Is Ginny okay?”

“Are you asking, or Ron?” Harry was trying not to be antagonistic, but it slipped out.

That got Russ going. “Merlin, he won’t shut up about her! I mean it sucks that we’re not in the same house, but Ron’s acting like Ginny killed their mum! Fred and George aren’t helping either.” Russ’ eyes flickered to him. “Do you all really sacrifice chickens?”

Harry gwuaffed. That sounded like pure muggle tripe, but he didn’t know enough about magic to discount it. “No, unless you count getting Draco to eat so he’ll finally shut up.”

“The blond git?” Russ asked. 

“Got it in one. He can be entertaining when he’s,” Harry stopped himself. No need to risk his words getting back to Draco. “Slytherin keeps me on my toes. I don’t know much about the wizarding world, but they’re helping me.” Russ looked like he was about to say something, to  _ offer _ help, but Harry didn’t want his help. “How about Gryffindor? Your lot is pretty loud.”

Russ smiled and ran his fingers through his hair. It was a shade lighter than Harry’s. “It is pretty loud. We’re just really excited and everyones been so nice!”  _ Because you’re a celebrity, _ Harry mentally added on. “I’ve made loads of friends, but the girls are weird. They’re always giggling when I’m around. I think they’re making fun of me. Hermione has word vomit though. I don’t know if that’s better.” 

They reached the hut. It was made of grey stones with moss creeping over them. Harry could hear chickens in the back and see a pumpkin patch. The door was massive, which made sense, but made Harry question if he was strong enough to open it. 

Russ knocked on the door and was met with the deep barking of a dog. An angry fear gripped Harry’s chest. He took a step back, memories of Aunt Marge’s vicious dog still fresh in his mind. Hagrid opened the door, holding a massive dog back. 

And Harry ran, ran like his life depended on it. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The etiquette course was Hekate's idea. Hand-to-hand fighting was SalamanderInk's. 
> 
> Sorry for the slow update. Life!
> 
> Lots of fun in this chapter!

* * *

Harry brushed off the other Slytherins when he got back to the dungeons. In his dorm room he sent Greg and Neville away with a few words. He sat in his bed, leaning against the headboard. Griever cuddled up beside him. 

He hated himself, hated the Dursleys, but most of all he hated James. James who gave him to the Dursleys. James who threatened him, tried to silence him, James who made him this pathetic _thing._

It was James’ fault he was like this. Fear, pain, and scars. Harry shouldn’t even have talked lightly with Russ. He was a monument to everything Harry had been denied. 

One day he’d really make James pay. 

Harry tried to distract himself. He’d pulled out Sirius’ journal, but was too worked up to read it. Instead, he grabbed the folded parchment he’d been using as a bookmark. 

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Harry whispered. Ink bled into existence with a black sketch of Hogwarts. At the top was the title:

_Messers Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs_

_Purveyors of Aids to magical Mischief-Makers_

_are proud to present_

_THE MARAUDER'S MAP_

He unfolded it, and just as Sirius’ note promised, it showed Hogwarts and all those inside of it. 

Harry’s eyes followed the moving footprints, reading names he didn’t recognize. Every room, secret passage, and even Griever who was curled up beside him.

“Brilliant,” Harry whispered to himself

More words appeared, looking like they were being written out. 

_Mr. Moony believes that’s an understatement of epic proportions._

_Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony and would like to know the name of the newest mischief maker._

Harry didn’t immediately respond, measuring his words. The note that came with the map clearly stated that it was meant for Sirius’ heirs, but he also saw opportunity. There was a good chance that one of the writers was James’—A James that hadn’t abandoned him yet. 

His self hatred came back with vengeance. He didn’t _need_ James, but this was another opportunity for him to better understand him in hopes of… know thy enemy. 

“Harry Potter-Black,” he said.

_Mr. Wormtail wishes to know if you have dog breath and were born with the Anteoculatia spell cast on you._

_Mr. Prongs cringes at the idea of Harry’s poor mum going through that._

_Mr. Moony asks whether Black and Potter’s wedding was beautiful or a complete mess._

_Mr. Padfoot reminds Mr. Moony that he is the only one with that predilection._

_Mr. Moony points out that he has a far better track record than him._

They kept quipping at each other, sending Harry the occasional question. 

Harry felt… a sort of morose envy. He didn’t know if he’d ever be capable of forming the sort of friendship the four of them clearly had, something easy going and with an intrinsic knowledge of each other. The other Slytherins weren’t so bad, but there was a disconnect there. All of them seemed pampered, save Ginny who could spit fire at anyone who tried to use that against her. 

About thirty minutes in, the map faded without him saying ‘Mischief Managed’ and in the middle of the Marauders’ conversation. He tried reactivating it, but with no results. 

Neville came in, looking nervous. “They posted the Slytherin courses. Draco wanted you to know.” 

Harry remembered the deal he made with Ginny. “Thanks, Nev. You’re a good friend.” That caused him to blush. “You don’t have to do what Draco tells you to. If he starts pushing you around, let me know.” 

“Umm, yeah. I know. It just doesn’t feel right to say no. I want us to be friends.” He shrugged. Harry got up, putting Sirius’ journal and the map in his trunk before going over to Neville. He patted him on the shoulder. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll teach you how when we get some free time. Merlin knows I never had the luxury of saying no when I was my aunt and uncle’s.” He smiled. “Trust me, you’ll love it.” 

“Thanks, Harry. You’re a good mate.”

They made their way to the common room. Most of the older students were crowding the board that usually had the password pinned to it. His group and the second years didn’t even bother trying to get past them. 

“I’m interested in magical archery,” Draco said with his chin tilted up. “My father is brilliant at it and taught me himself. They’ll have to put me with some older students.” Harry wondered if he should try keeping a tally on how often Draco mentioned his father. He’d probably lose count before the day was out.

“What’s that?” Ginny asked, eyes towards the crowd.

“It’s a means to cast a spell at a longer range that it normally couldn’t reach. There are enchanted arrows, but when you get really good you can use it to shoot pure spells. Give it two years and I’ll be competing professionally.” 

No one immediately responded, so Draco’s most loyal sycophants, Greg and Vincent, nodded along.

Eventually the crowd disbursed. The second-years moved forward. Harry contemplated going with them, trying to assert himself in their group, but doubted his shakey leadership role would work on them. He might be at the top of the Slytherin first-years, but that just meant he was barely above the bottom of the totem-pole. 

The second-years didn’t take overly long. 

The list was longer than he expected. The courses were in alphabetical order, requirements and times beside them. 

“Plant revival?” Neville commented. “Isn’t that necro—”

“Zip it!” Pansy shouted. 

A prefect separated from the older students who were still milling around. “We don’t use that word,” he informed Neville. “If I hear it again, I’ll take house points.” 

Neville ducked his head. “Sorry.” 

The prefect’s lips were in a hard line. He gave Neville one more warning look before rejoining the others. 

Ginny patted Neville’s arm.

Harry continued looking at the list, wishing he’d brought something to write with. He wasn’t sure which ones he’d wanted to take. He’d have to try a few out.

There was an art class that sounded muggle, but he doubted it was that simple. He wasn’t sure what duplicity meant, but it looked like Pansy was interested in it. Etiquette sounded boring, but he could see merit in it. Hand-to-hand fighting interested him while also making him uncomfortable and wary. There was enchantment, which sounded vague. Also real history and forgotten history. 

Meditation was held twice a week, Wednesday evening and Sunday morning. He’d follow Gemma’s advice and take it. 

There were a few courses he couldn’t take due to their first-year group project, which they were supposed to work on every Friday night, then learn from the teacher Professor Snape hired when they got the basics down. 

“You should take hand-to-hand,” Blaise said. Harry glanced over at him. He was talking to Ginny. “You can get some of that red-head rage out.”

Ginny smirked and cracked her knuckles threateningly. Blaise laughed and Harry joined in. 

_“Yes, firebrand! Pummel him!”_ Harry’s eyes turned toward the mantelpiece where the snake painting was hanging. Instead of biting the lion as he’d first seen the snake do, it was wrapped around the lion’s throat. _“Give me a good fight!”_ The snake squeezed harder on the lion’s throat. The lion tried to swipe at him, but somehow missed.

Harry looked away. He’d not thought to try talking to the snake paintings. He could use that to his advantage if they weren’t single minded. 

*

At breakfast Monday morning Harry was not surprised to see that the Daily Prophet had picked up the story of the Notts wanting to renew their vassalage. This Rita Skeeter reporter seemed like a gossip monger. It also didn’t help that there rarely was anything new to report in the wizarding world beyond Quidditch scores. 

What was a surprise was the non-howler letter from James. Harry tucked it away, knowing reading it would do him no good, or at least would be counter-productive. No need to sink his whole mood before classes even began. 

What shouldn’t have surprised him, yet did, was when Theo was pulled away from the table to make introductions for two other houses asking to renew their vows. The first was an older Slytherin boy, Marcus Flint. He had the worst teeth Harry had ever seen and didn’t look happy. 

The next was a Hufflepuff boy that looked around his age, Ernest Macmillan. He was nearly vibrating energy and Harry immediately knew he was not someone he’d like. He already had too many people siphoning off his energy and tolerance. 

He accepted and said he’d set up a time for a proper ceremony. 

Harry still needed to write Gringotts to get a full list of his vassals. 

Soon they were off to Potions. Harry had been suppressing his anxiety at seeing Russ again, at him using what happened on Sunday against him. He’d probably already told Ron, and they’d been making fun of him ever since. 

Daphne picked up on his tension, giving him a questioning look. He shook his head slightly. Not now, not when he was still trying to build himself back up. Thankfully, none of the Gryffindors were there, excluding the two which he could stand. 

“Good morning, Harry,” Ignis said. Harry noticed she stood with perfect posture. Were the Tonks another one of these stuffy pureblood families like Draco and Daphne’s? 

Hermione had her nose in the potions textbook, unaware of her surroundings.

“Good morning.” 

Harry looked at his fellow Slytherins. Pansy was glaring at the pair. Blaise was chatting with Theo in hushed voices, most likely up to no good, not that Theo had exactly shown a love of mischief. Millie, Greg, and Vincent were standing quietly together, doing an admirable job of pretending to be boulders. Ginny’s eyes were steadfast on the corner the Gryffindors would turn to get to class. Neville was staring at his potions textbook, eyebrows furrowed. Harry remembered how keyed in he’d been during their study session when Draco had been teaching about potions. Daphne was still trying to read him. He gave a slight shrug. 

Snape opened the door to the potions classroom before Russ and Ron appeared. It did nothing to lessen his nerves. Thankfully, Snape did not allow any chatter in his classroom, and Harry pretended the corner of the room they sat in was empty. 

His bag felt heavy with James’ letter in it. Thankfully, Professor Snape’s lecture was engaging, working in parallel with what Draco had taught them on Saturday.

From there was Herbology with the Ravenclaws. Parvati and he made light chatter before class began. Draco whined about Harry betraying Slytherin after Herbology and all during lunch.

“Draco, we’re going to grow up one day and have to talk to people that weren’t in Slytherin. I’m just getting an early start,” Harry explained. Draco was being childish—which made sense considering he was one. Whining was a waste of air and another reason to get beaten. Harry had to correct himself on that. His chances of being hit had drastically gone down since he got to Hogwarts. And he seriously doubted anyone would hit Draco, despite him being a little snot.

“You hung out with those twins, then talked to that mudblood and blood-traitor! I thought you had better taste.” Harry had read enough of Sirius’ journal to know the terms, not that they were hard to figure out. Draco seemed to remember himself

“He’s right, Harry,” Pansy said, oblivious to Draco. “They’ll just hold you back.”

“I’m the son of a mudblood and a blood-traitor. My father sent me to live with abusive muggles. My mother is probably just as terrible as her sister. Purebloods threw themselves at the feet of the man who tried to kill babies. No group has shown itself to be better than the others to me.” He wondered if that was diplomatic. At the very least it was the truth. 

“You like us, though right?” Tracey asked softly. Harry continued staring forward. “I mean I’m a half-blood, but everyone else is pureblood.” He didn’t bother at looking at any of them. 

“I’m not He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named. I’m not going to waste energy hating people for what they were born as.” He paused in the corridor. A few students from other houses were watching. “I reserve my hate for those who wrong me.” He met Tracey’s eyes, then swept his eyes over those around him. “Don’t give me a reason to hate you, and we won’t have any problems.”

“That’s big talk for such a small, slimy snake,” an older Ravenclaw boy commented coolly. It threw Harry for a second, not used to getting vitriol from a house other than Gryffindor. He was quick to recover. 

“What’s your name?” Harry demanded in a controlled tone. 

“Tobin Waverly. You better stop acting like you own the place. Some of us came here to learn, not listen to you.” Waverly stared down at him with a sneer. “Everyone knows you were raised by Death Eaters. I bet they only let you go so you can kill Russ Potter.” 

Harry felt his already coiled anger twist tighter, wanting to spring out into violence.

“Clearly he’s not immune to propaganda.” Daphne’s voice was bored. 

“The simple minded rarely are,” Blaise joined in. 

Harry took in a calming breath. “Tobin Waverly. I’ll remember that name. You’ll only have yourself to blame when the time comes.” He looked at his classmates. “Let’s not give Professor McGonagall a reason to take points by being late.” 

Waverly jeered at them as they left, the other Slytherins cloistering around him like a shield. 

“What’s the plan?” Daphne asked when they were seated in class. Professor McGonagall wasn’t there yet. They’d been warned that she could take the form of a cat, so as not to say anything in front of it. 

“I don’t know yet. Overwhelming force would be easiest with my accounts, but far from subtle.”

Pansy leaned over her table from behind them. “Not to mention, that was far from subtle declarations on your part. If anything big happens to him, all the blame will be put on your shoulders.” Her dark eyes were surprisingly bright. “Ravenclaws care about their grades. We could do something with that.” Harry hadn’t realized this was a group project.

“Risk getting kicked out of Hogwarts?” Draco scoffed. “What a terrible idea.”

“I say go after his family.” Blaise had a wicked look in place. “Lady Zabini has destroyed families before. It’s always fascinating to watch.”

Harry smirked. “I need information first… Know thy enemy, and such.” 

“I wish I could help!” Tracey had a maniacal grin. Harry was in good company. 

“Just because we’re supposed to be sly, doesn’t mean we can’t just hit him hard,” Ginny added. “He’s the one who made this public. It’s a chance to make a statement to all of the other students who might challenge us.” 

Neville looked uncomfortable, but nodded in agreement.

“True.” Pansy wrinkled her slightly upturned nose. “He’ll have to ask for your forgiveness in front of everyone.”

Draco held up a finger, “Better yet, he’ll have to declare you are superior to him.”

Any further conversation was cut off by McGonagall walking in. 

During the first week of her class, Harry had enjoyed her no-nonsense attitude, but now he could see how she clearly favored the Light. He couldn’t count the number of times she emphasized the importance of picturing what they wanted their final product to look like.

Surprisingly, he felt irritated by it too, despite not knowing much about the debate.

It only compounded when she handed out matchboxes with needles and given homework to write every detail they could about the needle.

“Mr. Potter, please stay after.”

Another thing, it was never ending. He waved off the other Slytherins.

“Yes, ma’am.” This could be any number of things, and he doubted any of them were good.

Greg was the last one out, giving Professor McGonagall half a glare. Harry was almost touched by his support. 

McGonagall looked him up and down. It set Harry on edge, feeling like McGonagall would open her mouth and Aunt Petunia’s voice would come out. That prim posture and clear look of distaste was all too familiar. Harry wanted to raise his wand at her, but knew better.

“Mr. Potter, though I can not stop you from such,” her lips formed a thin line, one worn on many occasions, “pageantry in the great hall, I advise you to try to keep it out of Hogwarts. This is an institution of learning. Such draconian dramatics will win you no friends.” She paused. “Though some may pledge their loyalty to you, that is no excuse to take advantage of them.” Her eyes were hard behind her spectacles. “I must caution you that any schoolwork that you turn in that is not your own will lead to severe punishment.”

“I hadn’t even thought of that, but it certainly is an idea,” Harry said, if only to see her reaction. Her already thin lips disappeared. “Not that I’d ever do something like that, professor.” He wished he’d had more time to plan out this conversation. “I know what it’s like to be under someone else’s power. My muggle relatives enjoyed denying me food for even the smallest, if any reason.”

“Five points from Slytherin for spreading rumors, Mr. Potter. Your father has already made the staff aware of your habitual lying. I won’t have it here in my classroom. Next time I’ll assign detention.”

Harry tilted his head to the side, an anger so all encompassing that he felt like his chest was on fire, like he’d swallowed a red hot coal, like clawing his own face off would be a relief.

Harry took in a deep breath, trying not to scream at her, “You took points for ‘lying’, ma’am. I wonder what you will give back when you realize I’m telling the truth.”

“Mr. Potter—” 

“Will you apologize, professor?” He kept his eyes steadily on her. What did he have to fear from her after all he’d gone through?

“Five more points, Mr. Potter. For cheek.” She was just like all the other teachers that had fallen for Petunia’s lies, that thought he was a cheater, thief, and the cause of all woes. 

“Yes, I’ll be expecting those points back, professor, and a proper apology.” Harry nodded to himself. 

“Keep this up, and there will be detention for you too,” she warned.

Harry shrugged. “Who am I to take away the shovel from someone who is trying to dig themselves a deeper hole?” 

“Detention, Mr. Potter, and I expect you to write an essay on the impact of lying. You’re dismissed.”

Harry gave her a blank look for a moment, before leaving with his head held high. 


End file.
